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GUARDINp HIS GOAL 


By Ralph Henry Barbour 

YARDLEY HALL SERIES 
Guarding His Goal 
Forward Pass For Yardley 

Double Play Around the End 

Winning His Y Change Signals 

PURPLE PENNANT SERIES 
The Lucky Seventh 
The Secret Play 
The Purple Pennant 

HILTON SERIES 

The Half-Back For the Honor of the School 
Captain of the Crew 

ERSKINE SERIES 

Behind the Line Weatherby’s Inning 

On Your Mark 

THE ‘‘BIG FOUR»» SERIES 
Four in Camp Four Afoot 

Four Afloat 

THE GRAFTON SERIES 
Rivals for the Team Winning His Game 

Hitting the Line 

BOOKS NOT IN SERIES 
For the Freedom of the Seas 
Under the Yankee Ensign 
Keeping His Course Benton’s Venture 
The Brother of a Hero The Junior Trophy 
Finkler’s Field The New Boy at Hilltop 

Danforth Plays theGame The Spirit of the School 
The Arrival of Jimpson The Play that Won 


D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York 


72H 









GUARDING 

XHISGOALX 

BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

AUTHOR OF 

"FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS,” “UNDER 
THE YANKEE ENSIGN,” ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

GEORGE AVISON 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK LONDON 

1919 





COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
Copyright, 1917, by 

Thb Commercial Advertiser Association 



iiEr lb 1819 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OT AMERICA 


(g)CI.A530789 


^ ^ \ 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. Introducing Our Hero . ^ i 

II. Off for Home ......... 14' 

III. The Man in the Brown Overcoat . 31 

IV. The Capture 49 

V. Christmas Days .61 

VI. Friends Fall Out -73 

VII. First Practice 90 

VIII. The Scholarship Awards .... 107 

IX. T. Tucker Plays Goal 119 

X. With the First Team 135 

XI. Trade Falls Off 150 

XII. The Marked Coin 164 

XIII. Tommy Lingard Explains . . . .187 

XIV. A Question of Color 199 

XV. Toby Entertains 212 

XVI. Absent from Chapel . . . . . . 223 

XVII. The Gray Card 238 

XVIII. In the Office 251 

XIX. A Pair of Gloves 264 

XX. Captain and Coach 280 

XXL The Rescue 299 

XXII. Things Come Out All Right .. .316 



4 


i 


0 


I 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


Toby, a little pale, crouched and watched 

Frontispiece facing 

PAGE 

“ That’s funny,” he murmured i68 

“ Let her come! ” laughed Toby 242 


“Coming! Hold on a little longer ! ” . . . .314 



GUARDING HIS GOAL 


CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


T. TUCKER 

Clothes Cleaned and Pressed 

PLEASE LEAVE ORDERS IN BOX 

S UCH was the legend, neatly inscribed on a 
small white card, that met the gaze of the 
visitor to Number 22 Whitson. As Num- 
ber 22 was the last room on the corridor, and as 
the single light was at the head of the stairway, 
the legend was none too legible after nightfall, 
and the boy who had paused in front of it to re- 
gain his breath after a hurried ascent of the two 
steep flights had difficulty in reading it. When 
he had deciphered it and glanced at the little card- 
board box below, in which reposed a tiny scratch- 
pad and a stubby pencil, he smiled amusedly ere 
he raised his hand and rapped on the portal. 

I 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Come in ! ” called a voice from beyond the 
door, and the visitor turned the knob and entered. 

The room was small, with a ceiling that sloped 
with the roof, and rather shabby. There was an 
iron cot at one side, and a small steamer trunk 
peeped out from beneath it. A bureau, grained 
in imitation of yellow oak, was across the room 
and bore a few photographs in addition to such 
purely useful articles as brushes and a comb and 
a little china box holding studs and sleeve-links. 
The room contained two chairs, although at first 
glance one seemed quite sufficient for the avail- 
able space: an armchair boasting the remains of 
an upholstered seat and a straight-backed affair 
whose uncompromising lines were at the moment 
partly hidden by a suit of blue serge. The one 
remaining article of furniture was a deal table 
such as one finds in kitchens. It was a good- 
sized table and it stood against the wall at the 
right of the window embrasure and under the gas 
bracket. From the bracket extended a pipe ter- 
minating at a one-burner gas stove which, on a 
square of zinc, adorned one end of the table. 
On the stove was a smoothing iron of the sort 
known to tailors as a goose. A second such im- 


2 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


plement was being pushed back and forth over aa 
expanse of damp cloth in a little cloud of steam, 
hissing, but less alarmingly than the other sort of 
goose, and filling the room with a not unpleasant 
odor. The iron didn’t stop in its travels to and 
fro, but its manipulator, a well-set-up boy of fif- 
teen with very blue eyes and red-brown hair, 
looked around as the visitor entered. 

“ Hello,” he said. “ Sit down, please, and I’ll 
be through this in a shake.” 

“ No hurry.” The visitor seated himself gin- 
gerly in the dilapidated armchair and draped a 
pair of gray trousers across his knees. While 
the boy at the table deftly lifted the dampened 
cloth and laid it over another part of the coat he 
was pressing and again pushed the hot iron back 
and forth, the visitor’s gaze traveled about the 
little room in mild surprise. There were no pic- 
tures on the white walls, nothing in the shape of 
decoration beyond three gaudily colored posters. 
Two of them depicted heroic figures in football 
togs surmounting the word “Yardley” in big 
blue letters, and the third was an advertisement 
for an automobile, showing a car of gigantic size, 
inhabited by a half-dozen lilliputian men and 
3 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


women, perched precariously on the edge of a 
precipice. The boy holding the gray trousers 
hoped that the man at the wheel, who seemed to 
be admiring the view with no thought of danger, 
had his brakes well set! He hadn’t known that 
anywhere in Yardley Hall School was there a 
room so absolutely unattractive and mean as Num- 
ber 22. To be sure, Whitson was the oldest of 
all the dormitories and so one naturally wouldn’t 
look for the modern conveniences found in Merle 
or Clarke or Dudley, but he had never suspected 
that Poverty Row, as the top floor of Whitson was 
factitiously called, held anything so abjectly hid- 
eous as the apartment of T. Tucker. Further re- 
flections were cut short by his host, who, returning 
the iron to the stove and whisking the cloth aside, 
picked up the coat he had pressed, folded it know- 
ingly and laid it on the foot of the bed. After 
which, plunging his hands into his trousers pock- 
ets, he faced the visitor inquiringly. 

“ Something you want done? ” he asked briskly. 

“ Yes, if you can do it this evening,” was the 
reply. “ But you look pretty busy. It’s just 
this pair of trousers. Tucker. I want to wear 
them away in the morning.” 


4 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


“ All right, m do ’em. Cleaned or just 
pressed?” Toby Tucker took the garment and 
examined it with professional interest. 

“ Oh, just pressed. I don’t think they’re spot- 
ted. Are you sure you want to do them? You 
look sort of busy already.” His glance went to 
the half-dozen coats and waistcoats and trousers 
lying about. 

“ I am,” replied Toby cheerfully, but I’ll have 
these ready for you in the morning. Seven early 
enough ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, there’s no chapel to-morrow, you 
know. If I’m not up just toss them in the room 
somewhere.” 

“ All right. You’re in Dudley, aren’t you? ” 
Yes, four. Crowell’s the name.” 

“ I know. You’re hockey captain. I suppose 
it’s hard to learn that game, isn’t it? ” Toby 
turned the light out under the burner and seated 
himself on the edge of the bed. 

“Hockey?” asked Orson Crowell. “ N-no, 
I don’t think so. Of course a fellow’s got to 
know how to skate a bit, and not mind being 
roughed, you know. The rest comes with prac- 
tice. Thinking of trying it. Tucker?” 

5 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“Me? No, I wouldn’t have time. I just 
wondered. Arnold Deering’s on the team, and 
he’s talked a good deal about it.” 

“ Oh, you know Arn? ” 

Toby nodded, hugging his knees up to his chin. 
“ It was Arnold who got me to come here to 
school. His folks have a summer place over on 
Long Island where I live. Greenhaven. Ever 
been there? ” 

Crowell shook his head. 

“ Nice place,” continued Toby thoughtfully. 
“ Arnold and I got acquainted and he talked so 
much about this school that I just made up my 
mind I’d come here. So I did.” 

“Like it now you’re here?” asked the other 
boy, smiling. 

“Oh, yes! Yes, I’m glad I came, all right. 
Of course — ” Toby glanced about the room — 
“ I’m not what you’d call luxuriously fixed up 
here, but I’ve got the room to myself, and that’s 
good, because if I had a room-mate he might ob- 
ject to my staying up all hours pressing clothes. 
Besides, it was just about the only room I could 
afford.” 

“ Yes, I suppose it’s just about all right for 

6 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


you,’^ agreed the other dubiously. “ Do you — 
do you do pretty well? ” 

“ Fair. It gets me enough to keep going on. 
I don’t charge much, you see, and it’s easier for 
fellows to bring their things to me than to take 
them to the village or over to Greenburg. It 
was sort of hard getting started. Fellows 
thought at first I couldn’t do it, I guess. But 
now they keep me pretty busy. To-day’s been a 
whopper. Every one wants his things pressed to 
go home in. I’m almost done, though. Only 
got three more suits — and these trousers of 
yours. Those won’t take me long. I’ll be 
through in a couple of hours.” 

“ I shouldn’t think you’d have time to do any- 
thing else,” commented Crowell. “ When do you 
get outdoors? And how about studying? ” 

“ Oh, I have plenty of time. I get up at six, 
and that gives me a good hour before chapel. 
And then I have another hour at eleven, and, 
since football’s been over, an hour or so in the 
afternoon.” 

“ Did you go out for football? ” 

“ Yes, I had a try at it. I was on the second 
about three weeks and then they dropped me and 
7 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


I played on my class team. It was lots of fun, 
but it took too much time.” 

“ Yes, it does take time,” granted Crowell. 
“ When I started in in my second year I was in 
trouble with the office all the time.” 

“ I’d certainly like to be able to play it the way 
you do,” said Toby admiringly. “ I guess it 
takes a lot of practice, though.” 

“ Oh, I’m not much good at it,” responded Cro- 
well, modestly. “ Did you see the Broadwood 
game? ” 

“No, I didn’t have time. And it cost too 
much. I wanted to, though. I’ll see it next year, 
when they play here.” 

Crowell had been studying the younger boy in- 
terestedly while they talked and liked what he 
saw. There was something very competent in 
the youngster’s looks, and the blue eyes expressed 
a fearlessness that, taken in conjunction with the 
determination shown by the square chin, argued 
results. He had a round, somewhat tanned face, 
a short nose and hair that, as before hinted, only 
just escaped being red instead of brown. (It 
didn’t do to more than hint regarding the color of 
Toby Tucker’s hair, for Toby was touchy on the 
8 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


subject and had fought more than one battle to 
emphasize the fact that it was distinctly brown 
and could not by any stretch of imagination be 
termed red!) For the rest, Toby was well built, 
healthy and strong, and rather larger than most 
boys of his age. 

“ Look here,” said Crowell suddenly. “ How 
are you at skating. Tucker? ” 

“ Oh, I can skate.” 

“ Done much of it? ” 

“Yes, I skate a lot, but I don’t know much 
fancy business.” 

“Why don’t you try hockey then? You’d 
like it awfully. It’s a ripping sport.” 

^ I’d be afraid I’d fall over one of those sticks 
you push around,” laughed Toby. 

Maybe you would at first,” said Crowell, 
smiling, “ but you’d soon get the hang of it. 
You look to me like a fellow who’d be clever about 
learning a thing. How old are you, any how? 
Sixteen, I suppose.” 

“ Not yet. Fifteen.” 

“Fourth Class, then?” Toby nodded and 
'Crowell frowned. “ Well, that wouldn’t mat- 
ter. Young Sterling played on the second last 
9 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

year when he was in the fourth. Now, look 
here — ” 

“ All right,” said Toby, jumping up, “ but 
while we’re talking I might be pressing those 
pants of yours. If you’ll stick around about ten 
minutes I’ll have them for you. Would you mind 
waiting that long? ” 

“ Not a bit. Go ahead. What I was going to 
say was, why don’t you come out for practice after 
vacation. Tucker? Of course, I can’t promise 
you a place on the second, but if you can skate 
fairly well and will learn to use a stick, I don’t see 
why you mightn’t make it.” 

Toby spread the trousers on the board and 
picked up the cloth. “ Why, I guess I’d love to 
play,” he responded doubtfully, “ but I don’t know 
if I’d have time. I dare say you have to practice 
a good deal every day, don’t you? ” 

” About an hour and a half, usually. Think it 
over. Candidates have been working in the gym 
for a fortnight now, but you wouldn’t have missed 
much. You’d meet up with a lot of fine chaps, 
too. Tucker. And, if you want to think of it that 
way, you might drum up more trade I ” Crowell 
concluded with a chuckle, and Toby smiled an- 


10 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


swcringly as he began to press the hot iron along 
the cloth. 

“ I’ll think it over, thanks,” he said after a mo- 
ment. “ Of course, a fellow has to do something 
in winter to get him out, anyway, and maybe hock- 
ey’s more fun than just skating, eh? I guess I 
wouldn’t be good enough for your second team, 
but I sort of think I’d like to try. Maybe an- 
other year I’d be better at it.” 

“ If you missed the second you might make a 
class team. They have some good games and a 
heap of fun. You tell Arn Deering what I say. 
Tell him I said he was to bring you out after you 
get back.” 

“ All right. I’ll tell him,” agreed Toby. 
“ He’s been after me, anyway. To try hockey, 
I mean. Does it cost much? ” 

“No. You’ve got skates, I suppose? Well, 
all you need is something to wear. The club sup- 
plies sticks. Three or four dollars will do it. 
Do you know. Tucker, I fancy you might make a 
pretty good goal? ” 

“Goal?” repeated Toby in alarm. “To 
shoot the puck at? ” 

“ I mean goal-tend,” laughed Crowell. “ But 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

it amounts to much the same. You get shot at all 
right] ’’ 

But you don’t do much skating if you mind 
goal, do you? ” objected Toby. 

“ Not a great deal, but it’s a hard position to 
play well, son. Good goal-tenders are scarcer 
than hens’ teeth ! ” 

“ I wouldn’t mind trying it,” said the other. 
“ Where do you play, Crowell? ” 

“We have a couple of rinks down by the river, 
beyond the tennis courts. Sometimes the class 
teams play on the river, but you can’t always be 
certain of your ice there. We’re going to have a 
hard time beating Broadwood this year, for 
they’ve got two peadhy players. Either one is 
better than any chap we have. Hello, all done ? ” 

“ Yes. They aren’t very dry yet, so you’d 
better spread them out when you get them home so 
they won’t wrinkle.” 

“Thanks. How much?” 

“ Fifteen cents, please.” 

“ That’s not much. Got a dime handy? ” 
Toby made the change and Orson Crowell, drap- 
ir.g his trousers over his arm, turned to the door. 
“ You make up your mind to try hockey. Tucker,” 


12 


INTRODUCING OUR HERO 


he advised again from the portal. “ I’ll look for 
you after vacation. Don’t forget! ” 

“ I won’t, thanks. I’ll see what Deering says. 
If he really thinks I’d have any chance I’ll have 
a go at it. Good-night.” 

“ Good-night. Hope you get your work done 
in time to get some sleep, Tucker. You look a 
bit fagged.” 

“ I guess I am,” muttered Toby as the door 
closed behind the hockey captain, “ but I wouldn’t 
have thought of it if he hadn’t mentioned it. 
Well, it’s only a quarter past eight and there’s not 
much left. Now then, you pesky blue serge, let’s 
see what your trouble is 1 ” 


CHAPTER II 


OFF FOR HOME 

Y ARDLEY Hall School ended its Fall 
Term that year on the twenty-first of 
December, after breakfast, and by nine 
o’clock the hill was deserted and the little station 
at Wissining presented a crowded and busy ap- 
pearance as at least three-quarters of the school’s 
three hundred and odd students strove to purchase 
tickets, to check baggage and to obtain a vantage 
point near the edge of the platform from which to 
pile breathlessly into the express and so make cer- 
tain of a seat for the ensuing two-hour journey to 
New York. A few of the fellows, who were to 
travel in the other direction, were absent, for the 
east-bound train left nearly an hour later, but they 
weren’t missed from that seething, noisy crowd. 
Of course much the same thing happened three 
times each year, but you wouldn’t have guessed 
it from the hopeless, helpless manner in which the 
station officials strove to meet the requirements of 

14 


OFF FOR HOME 


the situation. Long after the express, making a 
special stop at Wissining, whistled warningly down 
the track, boys were still clamoring at the ticket 
window and clutching at the frantic baggage mas- 
ter. How every one got onto the train, and how 
all the luggage, piled on four big trucks, was tossed 
into the baggage car in something under eighty sec- 
onds was a marvel. From the windows of the 
parlor cars and day coaches wondering counte- 
nances peered out at the unusual scene, and as the 
first inrush of boys invaded the good car Hyacinth 
a nervous old lady seized her reticule and sat on 
it, closed her eyes, folded her hands and awaited 
the worst! 

Toby Tucker, a rather more presentable citizen 
than the one who had received Orson Crowell in 
Number 22 Whitson last evening, was one of the 
first to claim sanctuary in the Hyacinth. This 
was not due to his own enterprise so much as to 
the fact that a slightly bigger youth had taken 
him by the shoulders and, using him as a batter- 
ing-ram, had cleaved a path from platform to ves- 
tibule. Toby did not ordinarily travel in parlor 
cars, but this morning his objections had been 
overruled, and presently he found himself, some- 

15 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


what dishevelled and out of breath, seated in a 
revolving chair upholstered in uncomfortably 
scratchy velvet with an ancient yellow valise on 
his knees. 

“ Put that thing down,” laughed the occupant of 
the next chair, pushing his own more modern suit- 
case out of the aisle. “ Gee, that was a riot, 
wasn’t it? Here we go!” The train started 
and Toby, not a little excited, saw the station move 
past the broad window, caught a final fleeting 
glimpse of the village and then found the river be- 
neath them. A minute later the express roared 
disdainfully through Greenburg and set off in ear- 
nest for New Haven and New York. “ Two 
whole weeks of freedom ! ” exulted his compan- 
ion. “ No more Latin, no more math, no more 
English comp — ” 

“ And no more French I ” added Toby feelingly. 
“ And no more clothes to clean, either. I guess 
it will take me more than a week to get rid of the 
smell of benzine. I stayed up until after ten last 
night, Arnold. I wanted to press my own things, 
but I was too tired. Does this suit look very 
bad?” 

“ Bad? No, it looks corking,” replied Arnold 

i6 


OFF FOR HOME 


Deenng. “ It gets me how you can buy a suit of 
clothes for about fifteen dollars and have it look 
bully, when I have to pay twenty-five and then look 
like the dickens. Look at these togs, will you? 
You’d think I’d had them two or three years ! ” 

“ When a fellow hangs his clothes on the floor 
the way you do,” laughed Toby, “ he shouldn’t 
expect them to look very nice. Why didn’t you 
bring that up yesterday and let me go over it? ” 

“ Because I knew you had more than you could 
do, T. Tucker. Besides, you never let me pay 
you, you chump.” 

“ Well, if you’re going to wear your things all 
mussed up you can pay me all you want to. Say, 
how much does this cost? ” 

“What?” 

“ Why, this parlor car business? ” 

“ Oh, about a half. It’s my treat, like I’ve told 
you once.” 

“ Oh, no — ” began Toby. But Arnold 
drowned out his protest. 

“Listen, Toby: you’re coming back to New 
York the day after Christmas, aren’t you? ” 

“ No, that’s Sunday; I’ll come Monday.” 

“ But, hang it, that’s too late ! There are piles 

17 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

of things we’ve got to do. Why, that only gives 
us a week! ” 

“ I know, but I’ve got to be at home some of 
the time, Arn. I thought I’d come up and stay 
with you from Monday to Saturday and then go 
back to Greenhaven until Tuesday.” 

“ Oh, feathers! Well, all right, but if you’re 
going to do that you’ve got to stay with me until 
day after to-morrow.” 

Toby smiled and shook his head. “ I can’t, 
Arn, honestly. I wrote mother I’d be back to- 
morrow afternoon. Besides, I haven’t anything 
to wear except what I’ve got on. Everything else 
is in my trunk.” 

“ You don’t need anything else. If you did I 
could lend it to you. Have a heart, Toby. 
Why, I haven’t seen you for more than a minute 
at a time for a whole week! ” 

“That wasn’t my fault, Arn. You knew 
where to find me.” 

“ Of course, but it’s no fun sitting up in your 
attic and watching you press trousers or mess 
around with smelly stuff on the roof. Say, I 
wrote dad to get some tickets to the theater for 
to-night. Wonder what he will get them for. 

i8 


OFF FOR HOME 

I’m going to buy a paper and see what the shows 
are. 

When Arnold had disappeared down the aisle 
Toby produced a pocket-book and gravely and a 
trifle anxiously examined the contents. To-mor- 
row he meant to go shopping for presents for the 
folks in Greenhaven, and the subject of funds was 
an important one. The pocket-book held four 
folded bills and quite a pile of silver and small 
coins, but when Toby had carefully counted it all 
up the result was not reassuring. He had his 
fare to Greenhaven to pay to-morrow, his fare to 
New York on Monday, his fare back to Green- 
haven the last of the week, and, finally, his fare all 
the way to Wissining the following Tuesday. He 
would not, he thought grimly, be riding in a par- 
lor car on that return trip I The funds in hand 
consisted of exactly twelve dollars and forty- 
eight cents. Toby replaced the pocket-book, drew 
out a little black memorandum and a pencil and 
proceeded to figure. He frowned frequently dur- 
ing the procedure, and once he sighed disappoint- 
edly. After traveling expenses had been allowed 
for only seven dollars and a half remained, and 
seven dollars and a half wasn’t nearly as much as 

19 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


he had hoped to be able to expend for Christmas 
presents. Why, the shaving set he had meant to 
give his father would cost all of five dollars, and 
that would leave but two dollars and a half with 
which to purchase presents for his mother and 
his sister Phebe and Long Tim and Shorty Joe and 
— Oh dear, he had quite forgotten Arnold I 
He turned some pages in the memorandum book 
and read thoughtfully down the list of items 
there. “ Beech, .85; Framer, .30; Williams, .45; 
Hove, .15; Lamson, 1.05; Hurd, .45.” He 
stopped, although there were more entries, and 
went back to that Lamson item. Frank was on 
the train somewhere and perhaps he might be per- 
suaded to pay up. He b^d owed most of that 
dollar-five since October and ought to be willing to 
settle. If he had that it would help considerably. 
And perhaps he could find Beach too. He con- 
sidered a minute and then left his seat and sur- 
veyed the car. There was quite a sprinkling of 
fellows he knew by sight or well enough to speak 
to there, but Frank Lamson was not of them. 
He started off toward the rear of the train. 
Near the door he spoke to a boy in a shiny derby 
and a wonderful brown overcoat. 


20 


OFF FOR HOME 


“Hello, Tucker! What say? Frank Lam- 
son? Yes, I saw him on the platform. He’s 
here somewhere, I guess. Unless he got left! ” 
Jim Rose chuckled. “ But I don’t suppose he did. 
I never knew him to ! ” 

Toby passed on to the next car and wormed his 
way between boys and bags, nodding occasionally, 
speaking once or twice, but without success until he 
sighted a tall, thin youth of eighteen who sat with 
his long legs almost doubled to his chin, reading 
a paper. Toby leaned over the back of his chair. 
“ I say. Beech, would it be convenient for you to 
let me have that eighty-five cents? Fm sort of 
short just now, or I wouldn’t ask you for it.” 

Grover Beech looked up a bit startledly from 
the morning paper. “Eh? Oh, that you. 
Tucker? Eighty- five cents? ” Beech’s counte- 
nance grew troubled. “ I’m awfully afraid I 
I can’t, old man. I’m just about stone broke. 
Tell you what, though; I’ll send it to you to-mor- 
row.” Perhaps the expression of disappointment 
on Toby’s face touched him then, for he hesitated, 
thrust a hand into his pocket and brought it out 
filled with change. “ Never mind,” he said. 
“ I’ve got it here, I guess. If I run short I’ll 


21 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


make a touch somewhere. Here you are. Fifty, 
sixty, seventy — mind some coppers ? — eighty 
— and five is eighty-five. That right? ” 

“ Yes, thanks. I wouldn’t have asked for it, 
only — ” 

“ That’s all right, old man.” Beech waved a 
slim hand. “ Glad to pay when I can. When 
I get back I’ll start another bill! Merry Christ- 
mas, Tucker. Say, where do you live, eh? ” 

“ Greenhaven, Long Island,” replied Toby, 
carefully scoring out the item of indebtedness in 
his little book and then as carefully dropping the 
coins into his purse. 

“That’s near by, eh? Lucky guy! I’ve got 
to go all the way to Baltimore. Beastly trip. 
Be good. Tucker. So long! ” 

Encouraged, Toby continued his explorations. 
Half-way along the next car he discovered his 
quarry. Frank Lamson, a big-framed youth of 
sixteen, with very black hair and dark eyes in a 
good-looking if somewhat saturnine face, was 
seated on the arm of a chair, one of a group of 
four or five who were laughing and chatting to- 
gether. Toby hesitated about broaching the sub- 
ject of his errand under the circumstances, but 


22 


OFF FOR HOME 


Frank happened to look up at the moment and 
greeted him. 

“ Hello, Toby,” he called in his usual patroniz- 
ing and slightly ironical way. “ How’s business? 
Pressing? ” 

The joke won laughter from the others of the 
group, one boy, seated on an upturned suit-case, 
almost losing his balance. Toby smiled. The 
joke was an old one and he had become used to 
smiling at it. 

“ No,” he replied, “ business isn’t pressing, 
Frank, but bills are. I wish you’d let me have a 
dollar and five cents, will you? I need some 
money pretty badly.” 

Frank Lamson frowned and then laughed. 

So do I, Toby, old scout. Need it like any- 
thing. Bet you a dollar I need it more than you 
do.” 

“ I don’t believe you do,” answered Toby so- 
berly. “ I wouldn’t ask you for it, Frank, but I’m 
pretty short — ” 

“ You’ll grow. Tucker,” said the boy on the 
suit-case, with a giggle. 

“ Toby,” said Frank blandly, “ I’d pay you in a 
minute if I had the money. But I’ve only just got 

23 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

enough to get home on. As it is, I’ll probably 
have to borrow from the butler to pay the taxi 
man ! I’ll settle up right after vacation, though, 
honest Injun. How’ll that do ? ” 

“ I’d rather have it now,” replied Toby, “ or 
some of it. Suppose you pay fifty cents on ac- 
count? ” 

“ Fifty cents ! My word, the fellow talks like 
a millionaire I Say, Toby, if you’re short go and 
borrow some from Arnold. He’s simply rolling 
in wealth. He always is. And, say, if he comes 
across, touch him for a couple of dollars for me, 
will you? ” 

“ Me, too,” laughed another boy. 

“ I wish you would, Frank,” said Toby ear- 
nestly. “ Honest, I do need the money. And — 
and you’ve been owing it for some time now, you 
know.” 

“ Oh, cut it. Tucker! ” exclaimed Frank crossly. 
“ This is no time to dun a chap for a few pennies. 
Why didn’t you come around last week if you 
needed it so much? Besides, that last job of 
cleaning you did was beastly. Every spot came 
right back again. I’ll leave it to Watkins. You 
saw the suit, didn’t you, Chet? ” 

24 


OFF FOR HOME 


Watkins, a stout youth who wore a pair of rub-* 
ber-rimmed spectacles and looked like a rather 
stupid owl, nodded obediently. “ Rotten job. I’d 
call it,” he murmured. 

Toby flushed. “ I’m sorry,” he answered 
stiffly. “ If you’d brought the things back 
again — ” 

“ I had to wear them. But you oughtn’t to 
charge me fifty cents for a bum job like that. 
Still, I’ll pay — later. Cut along now, old scout. 
Don’t obtrude vulgar money matters on such a 
gladsome occasion, what?” 

Toby hesitated. Then: “All right, Frank,” 
he said quietly. “ Sorry I troubled you. Hope 
you have a Merry Christmas.” 

“ Same to you, Toby ! Just remind me of that 
little matter when we get back, will you? ” He 
winked at the audience and elicited grins. “ I 
mean well, but I’m awfully forgetful. Bye, bye, 
honey! ” 

When Toby got back to his seat he found Ar- 
nold very busy with his New York paper, and for 
the next ten minutes they discussed theaters. 
Toby, however, was thinking more of the financial 
problem that confronted him than of the eve- 
25 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


ning’s amusement, and Arnold found him disap- 
pointingly unresponsive when he dwelt on the pos- 
sibility of seeing this play or that. In the end he 
tossed the paper aside and acknowledged the truth 
of Toby’s remark to the effect that it didn’t do any 
good deciding what play he wanted to see most if 
his father had already purchased the tickets. 
For his part, Toby added, he would enjoy any- 
thing, for he had never been to a real theater but 
twice in his life. That afforded Arnold an op- 
portunity to reminisce, which he did for a good ten 
minutes while Toby pretended to listen but was in 
reality wondering how to make eight dollars and 
thirty-five cents do the work of fifteen ! 

Arnold Deering was sixteen years old, Toby’s 
senior by one year. He was a good-looking chap, 
with the good looks produced by regularly formed 
features such as a straight nose, a rounded chin, 
brown eyes well apart and a high forehead made 
seemingly higher by brushing the dark brown hair 
straight back from it. Arnold’s hair always 
looked as if he had arisen from a barber’s chair 
the moment before. Some of the summer’s tan 
still remained, and altogether Arnold looked 
healthy, normal and likable. He was fairly tall 
26 


OFF FOR HOME 


and rather slender, but there was well developed 
muscle under the smooth skin and his slimness was 
that of the athlete in training. 

Later, by which time the train was running 
smoothly through the winter fields and woods of 
Larchmont and Pelham, Toby told of Orson Cro- 
well’s visit and their talk, and Arnold’s eyes 
opened very wide. “ Why, that’s bully! ” he ex- 
claimed. If Orson talked that way, Toby, he 
means to help you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he 
took you on the scrub team if you showed any sort 
of playing. He doesn’t often go out of his way 
to be nice to fellows. I call that lucky! Of 
course you’ll have a try, after what he told you ! ” 

“ I’d like to, but it would take a lot of time, 
Arn. You know I didn’t go to Yardley just to 
play hockey and things. I — I’ve got to make 
enough money to come back next year.” 

“ Oh, piffle, Toby ! What does an hour’s prac- 
tice in the afternoon amount to? Besides, you 
played football, and that took more time than 
hockey. Don’t be an idiot. Why, say. I’ll bet 
you anything you like that you’ll find yourself on 
the scrub before the season’s over. And that 
would be doing mighty well for a fourth class fel- 
27 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


low! You’d be almost sure of making the school 
team next year, Toby I ” 

“ But how do I know I could play hockey? I 
can skate pretty well; just ordinary skating, you 
know, without any frills — ” 

“You don’t need the frills in hockey. What 
you need is to be able to stay on your feet and 
skate hard and — and be a bit tricky.” 

“ Tricky? ” 

“ Yes, I mean able to dodge and make a fellow 
think you’re going to do one thing and then do 
another. But staying on your feet is the main 
thing.” 

“ And the hardest, I guess. Crowell seemed 
to think I could play goal, as he called it.” 

“ We-ell, maybe,” responded Arnold cau- 
tiously. “ Goal, to my mind, is the toughest po- 
sition on the team. You v/ouldn’t have to skate so 
much, but you’d have to be mighty quick on your 
feet. And mighty cool, too. But I guess you’d 
be cool, all right. I never saw you really excited 
yet!” 

“ How about the time we went after the thieves 
that stole the Trainors’ launch that time and they 
tried to pot us from the beach? ” laughed Toby. 

28 


OFF FOR HOME 


“ Huh I You weren’t excited even then ! And 
I guess a fellow that can stay cool when the bullets 
are knocking chips off the boat can keep his head 
even when nine or ten wild Indians are banging 
into the net and slashing his feet with their sticks ! 
Blessed if I don’t believe Orson Crowell’s right, 
Toby ! I guess you’re a born goal-tend ! ” 

‘‘ You and Crowell are sort of jumping at con- 
clusions, I guess,” replied Toby. “ I’m not even 
certain I could stop a puck if it came at me.” 

“ Sure you could. It isn’t hard.” 

‘‘ You just said it was ! ” 

“ Well, I mean it isn’t hard when you know 
how. Anyway, you’re going to report for hockey 
the day we get back if I have to lug you all the 
way to the rink ! ” 

“Think there’ll be ice by that time?” asked 
Toby. 

“ I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it now. 
It’s been an awfully mild sort of winter so far. I 
wish it would snow for Christmas, don’t you? 
Christmas doesn’t seem like Christmas without 
snow. I’ll bet it’s dandy around your place in 
winter, eh? ” 

“ There’s plenty of winter,” laughed Toby. 

29 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ It gets frightfully cold 6ver there sometimes. 
Arn, if your father will let you you’ll come over 
for a few days, won’t you? ” 

“ Surest thing you know,” replied the other 
promptly. “ I’ve promised six or eight times, 
haven’t I? But he won’t, I guess. You see, 
since mother died, dad likes to have me around at 
Christmas and times like that. Still, he might. 
We’ll ask him to-night, eh? ” 

“All right. Isn’t this the tunnel? We’d bet- 
ter get our coats on, hadn’t we? Don’t you let 
me get lost when we get in there I ” 


CHAPTER III 

THE MAN IN THE BROWN OVERCOAT 

A RNOLD’S house was only a five-minute 
ride from the station, and Toby, to 
whom the city was unfamiliar and vastly 
entertaining, wished it had been farther. His en- 
joyment of the sights, however, was somewhat 
dampened by the seeming recklessness of the taxi- 
cab driver, and more than once he started to his 
feet to be ready to meet death standing. It kept 
Arnold quite busy pulling him back to the seat. 
Arnold’s Aunt Alice, who, since his mother’s 
death, had kept house for Mr. Deering, was the 
only one to welcome them, aside from the serv- 
ants, for Arnold’s father did not return from his 
down town office until the middle of the afternoon. 
Toby was conducted by Arnold and a man-servant 
with a striped waistcoat and a maid-servant with 
apron and cap and Aunt Alice’s spaniel, San Toy, 
into an elevator, past two floors, along a hall and 
at last into a great wonderful room that quite took 

31 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


his breath away. It was all very exciting and con- 
fusing and jolly, and San Toy, entering into the 
spirit of the occasion, barked so hard that he 
lifted his front paws from the floor ! And after 
the servants had deposited the bags and coats 
and gone away, Arnold pulled Toby through a 
door into his own room adjoining and they looked 
from the windows over a vast expanse of trees and 
lawn and winding paths and shimmering lakes 
which Arnold said was Central Park and which 
Toby accepted as such and vowed that he could 
never tire of looking at it. After luncheon they 
went for a walk there, but soon hurried back to 
the house to meet Mr. Deering who had tele- 
phoned that he would be home an hour earlier 
than usual. 

Arnold’s father was so nice to Toby and 
seemed so glad to have him there that Toby forgot 
much of the embarrassment that had affected him 
on his arrival and actually found himself sitting 
down in a big velvet-cushioned chair without, for 
once, wondering whether he would damage it! 
Mr. Deering was rather stout, with grizzled hair 
and a most carefully trimmed mustache. Toby 
fancied that he could be very crisp and even stern 

32 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 

in his office, but at home he was jovial and kindly 
and one might easily have concluded that for the 
time at least he had nothing in the world to do but 
invent and provide amusement for the two eager- 
eyed boys just out of school. The big limousine 
car was summoned, and every one, including Aunt 
Alice and San Toy, piled into it, and were 
whisked away northward over smooth pavements, 
along a blue-gray river, over a great bridge and 
into the country. Long before they turned back 
the sun had gone down behind sullen clouds and 
when they reached the town again the lights were 
twinkling down the long streets. And then, to 
Arnold’s loudly expressed delight, when they got 
out of the car at the house little flecks of snow 
were falling and the evening had grown quite 
cold. From that time until dinner was ready Ar- 
nold made frequent trips to the windows and al- 
ways returned with the cheering news that it was 
still at it.” 

A wonderful dinner that! Toby, viewing so 
many forks and knives and spoons and plates with 
dire misgiving, felt extremely uneasy for the first 
few minutes for fear he might use the wrong uten- 
sil. But Aunt Alice came to his rescue. “ It 


33 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

doesn’t matter, Toby,” she said, “ which fork or 
spoon you use. I don’t think Arnold ever gets 
them just right himself.” And Mr. Deering 
laughingly suggested that Toby might follow the 
example of the man who, finding himself left with 
two unused spoons, saved the situation by drop- 
ping them in his pocket! After dinner the car 
rolled up again and they went off to the theater. 
To Arnold’s joy the play was the one he had de- 
cided he wanted most to see, and Mr. Deering 
gravely explained the coincidence by mental tele- 
pathy and got Toby very interested and aston- 
ished before the latter discovered that it was just 
a joke. But perhaps Toby didn’t enjoy that play I 
It was absolutely beautiful and astounding and 
thrilling from the rise of the first curtain to the la- 
mentable fall of the last, and, although to prolong 
the gayety they stopped at a gorgeous restaurant 
and ate things, Toby couldn’t remember after- 
wards what he had had, or much of anything ex- 
cept the play. He would have stayed awake half 
the rest of the night — it was already well past 
midnight when they reached home again — talk- 
ing it over with Arnold if that unfeeling brute 
hadn’t fallen to sleep almost immediately. 

34 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 


They awoke in the morning, frightfully and de- 
liciously late, to find the world carpeted with a 
good inch of snow. From the windows of Ar- 
nold’s room on the front of the house the scene was 
like fairyland. Or so, at least, Toby declared. 
Every branch of every tree and shrub in the Park 
was frosted with snow and what had been grass 
yesterday was this morning an unsullied expanse 
of white. But to Arnold’s disgust the sun was 
out, shining brilliantly if frostily, and already the 
streets were almost bare. Toby, though, declined 
to be down-hearted, reminding his chum that it 
would probably snow again to-morrow, and Ar- 
nold, on that understanding, concluded that life 
still held a faint promise of happiness and decided 
to get dressed and have some breakfast. 

But they didn’t spend much time at the table. 
One isn’t extremely hungry at nine if one has 
supped at midnight, and, besides, both boys were 
eager to get out of doors. To Toby this fore- 
noon was an important occasion, for he was to do 
his Christmas shopping, and when a chap has all 
of eight dollars to spend just as he sees fit he 
doesn’t care to waste much time on such every-day 
things as breakfasts ! 


35 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


They traveled downtown on the top of a bus, 
missing very little of the brilliant pageant set be- 
fore them. The holiday spirit was in the air and 
the very city itself seemed sensible of the season’s 
significance. The sunlight shone dazzlingly on 
patches of wet pavement, above the roofs clouds 
of white steam billowed up against a blue sky and 
everywhere was color and life. The windows of 
the shops were gorgeous with holiday displays 
and on all sides the scarlet of holly berries and the 
green of fir and pine met the eager eyes of the 
boys. The street was a solid stream of moving 
vehicles, dashing motor cars, lumbering busses, se- 
date carriages, rattling delivery wagons. Nickel 
and brass and shining varnish caught the sunlight. 
It was three days to Christmas, but one might 
have thought from the hurry and bustle of the 
busy shoppers that that important occasion was 
due no later than to-morrow. Toby was very 
thrilled and very excited by the time they disem- 
barked, seemingly at the risk of their lives, at 
Thirty-fourth Street, and Arnold, although far 
more accustomed to the inspiring scene, found 
himself in a truly holiday mood. 

Arnold was postponing his own shopping until 

36 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 

the next day in order that Toby, who was to con- 
tinue on to Greenhaven in the afternoon, might 
have the services of his advice and assistance. 
Toby had ruefully confided to his chum that his 
capital was small and Arnold had decided that 
Fifth Avenue was not the place for purchasing. 
So, when they had gained the sidewalk in safety 
by what appeared to Toby nothing short of a mir- 
acle, they started away along the cross streets. 
They didn’t make very rapid progress, though, 
for Toby found something fascinating in nearly 
every window, and more than once Arnold discov- 
ered himself alone and had to retrace his steps 
and drag the other away from rapt contemplation 
of a marvelous display. Toby’s unbounded ad- 
miration and wonder pleased Arnold, and the lat- 
ter thoroughly enjoyed exhibiting the marvels of 
his city to his friend. They were about midway 
of the block when Arnold missed Toby for per- 
haps the sixth time. He turned back, but none of 
the near-by windows reflected the countenance of 
T. Tucker. Arnold was about reaching the con- 
clusion that Toby was lost when he suddenly 
caught a glimpse of that youth standing by the 
curbing. Arnold fought his way back to him. 
37 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Toby was talking to a seedy looking man whose 
unshaven face and watery, shifty eyes inspired 
Arnold with anything but confidence. But he 
reached the scene too late, for Toby was already 
returning his purse to his pocket when Arnold 
seized his arm. 

“ Don’t be a chump, Toby,” he said impa- 
tiently. “ That fellow’s got more money right 
now than you have. How much did you give 
him?” 

“ Only a quarter,” replied Toby gravely. 
“ He hasn’t had anything to eat for two days, and 
his wife’s sick and — ” 

“ I know ! His grandmother’s broken a leg 
and all his children have scarlet fever I Gee, you 
oughtn’t to be trusted around this burg with any 
money in your pocket. The man’s a professional 
beggar, you idiot I ” 

Toby looked both shocked and incredulous. 
“ I don’t think so, Arn,” he protested. “ If you’d 
heard him — ” 

“ I’ve heard lots of them,” returned the other 
impatiently. “ You stay with me after this and 
keep your hand out of your pocket. If you’re 
going to give money to all the beggars that ask 

38 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 

for it, you won’t have a cent when you get into a 
store 1 ” 

“ I just couldn’t help giving him a little,” said 
Toby. “ Did you notice that he didn’t have any 
overcoat? Why, his hands were blue with the 
cold, Arn I ” 

“ Yes, and his nose was red with it — or some- 
thing else. Toby, you’re an awful green little 
yap, that’s what you are 1 ” 

“ What’s a yap? ” asked Toby untroubledly. 

“ It’s what you are,” laughed Arnold. 
“ Come on in here and see what we can do. This 
is as reasonable as any place, I guess.” 

They pushed through a revolving door and 
found themselves in a big department store that 
was just about twice as crowded as the sidewalk 
had been. Arnold found a magnificent gentleman 
in a long black frock coat and asked his way to the 
cutlery department. While they were receiving 
directions some one tugged at Toby’s coat, or 
seemed to, and he looked around. A man with a 
stubbly red mustache muttered an apology and 
pushed past, and Toby smiled forgivingly and fol- 
lowed Arnold through the throng. He had de- 
cided a week ago to pay as much as five dollars for 
39 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


a shaving set for his father, but that was before 
his discovery that just before Christmas was a bad 
time for collections! Now his limit was three 
dollars and he doubted that that amount would 
buy anything nice enough. But when the sales- 
man began to place the goods before them on the 
counter Toby took heart. It was simply wonder- 
ful what you could get for a dollar and ninety-eight 
cents in this place 1 In the end he decided on a 
set costing two dollars and seventy-five cents — 
there was none for exactly three dollars — and 
put his hand into an overcoat pocket to get his 
purse out. The hand returned empty. The 
other hand went into the other pocket and fared 
no better and a look of surprise bordering on 
alarm overspread the boy’s countenance. 

“ What’s the matter? ” asked Arnold. 

“ I can’t find — my purse,” gasped Toby, both 
hands prol^ing diligently. 

“You wouldn’t have it there, would you?” 
asked Arnold anxiously. “ Try your trousers, 
why don’t you? ” 

“I — I’m pretty sure I dropped it into my 
overcoat pocket after I gave that man the quar- 
ter.” Toby searched his other pockets, however, 
40 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 


to make certain, but without success. “ It’s 
gone ! ” he announced in utter dismay, staring 
blankly his friend. 

“ Some one pinched it,” said Arnold, with con- 
viction. “ What the dickens did you ever put it 
in an outside pocket for? Didn’t you know that 
there were pickpockets in the world? ” 

“I — I guess I didn’t think,” murmured Toby 
disconsolately, still dipping unavailingly into va- 
rious parts of his clothing. “ It — it’s clean 
gone, anyway. Here’s where I put it.” 

“ That was a swell place,” said Arnold scath- 
ingly. “ Here, I’ll pay for this and you can pay 
me back some time.” 

The salesman, sympathetic but a trifle impa- 
tient, started to accept Arnold’s money, but Toby 
interfered. “No, please, Arn! I’d rather not, 
thanks. I’ve lost my money and it’s my own 
fault and — ” 

“ But you’ve got to buy your presents I We’ll 
go down to the office and get some more 
from dad. I’ve only got about three and a 
half.” 

“ I’d rather not. I couldn’t pay it back for a 
long while. I’ll just have to tell the folks what 

41 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


happened, Arn. They won’t mind — much — 
when they understand.” 

“ But why not let me loan you enough for the 
razor set, anyway? You don’t need to pay me 
back for a year, you silly chump ! ” 

But Toby was obdurate. “I — maybe I’ll 
come back for that later,” he told the salesman 
apologetically. “ Thanks for your trouble.” 

“ That’s all right,” returned the man heartily. 
“ It’s too bad you lost it. You didn’t feel any- 
thing, did you ? I mean you wouldn’t know where 
it happened? ” 

Toby’s eyes narrowed and he stared for a mo- 
ment straight ahead. Then, before Arnold could 
stop him, he had turned and was plunging deter- 
minedly through the crowd. Arnold hurried af- 
ter him, sighting him now and then and finally 
reaching him near the entrance. 

“ Where are you going? ” panted Arnold, seiz- 
ing the other by the arm. 

“ I don’t know,” answered Toby thoughtfully. 
“ Listen, Arn. While you were asking that man 
where the razors were I felt something tug at my 
coat and I looked around and there was a man 
pushing by me. He said he was sorry or some- 

42 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 


thing and — and beat it. I’ll bet you anything 
he did it! ” 

‘‘Of course he did! But what of it? You 
don’t expect to find him waiting for you to come 
back, do you? ” 

Toby shook his head doubtfully. “ No, I guess 
not. Only I thought he might be still around 
here. I’d know him in a minute if I saw him. 
Don’t you think that maybe if we sort of walked 
around and kept our eyes open we might find 
him?” 

“ No, I certainly don’t,” said Arnold decidedly. 
“ As soon as he got that purse of yours he hiked 
out for some other place, naturally.” 

“Oh!” murmured Toby disappointedly. 
“ Where do you think he went? ” 

“ Great Scott! How do I know? He might 
be just around the corner or he may be a mile 
away by this time. You might just as well make 
up your mind to doing without that money, Toby. 
I’m awfully sorry, old man. And I do wish you’d 
let me lend you some. It’s perfectly silly not to. 
If it was I who had lost my purse I’d take a loan 
from you in a minute.” 

Toby smiled wanly at the idea of lending money 

43 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


to Arnold. Then the smile faded and he said: 
“ Gee, I needed that eight dollars, Arn. It — 
it’s tough, isn’t it? ” 

“ It certainly is, Toby. I’m as sorry as any- 
thing. Hang it, if you hadn’t been crazy enough 
to hand out money to a beggar it wouldn’t have 
happened. After this — ” 

“ I know, but there won’t be any after this. 
Look here, Arn, I wish you’d let me have a dime 
and then run along home. I want to look around 
a bit and there’s no use dragging you around too. 
Will you? ” 

“ Look around? You mean you want to look 
for the chap who swiped your purse? That’s 
crazy, Toby, honestly. You haven’t got one 
chance in a hundred, one chance in ten thousand, 
of ever seeing him again.” 

“ Maybe not, but — but I’d sort of like to try, 
Arn. You slip me a dime and — ” 

“ Slip you nothing! If you must make a silly 
ass of yourself I’ll stick around with you. Where 
do you want to go first? ” 

“ Where’s the nearest big store like this? ” 

“ I don’t know, but we can go and look for it. 
Do you think he’ll be there? ” 


44 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 


“ He might be. You see, if he did so well here 
he might think he ought to stick to department 
stores, and he’d probably take the next one. 
Wouldn’t you argue about like that, Arn? ” 

“ Maybe I would, if I were a pickpocket,” 
chuckled Arnold. “ All right, old man. Come 
on. Only I warn you right now that you’re only 
starting on a wild goose chase, so don’t be disap- 
pointed, Toby.” 

“ I shan’t be,” answered Toby soberly. On 
the sidewalk he left Arnold and addressed the car- 
riage-man on the curb. “ He says,” he an- 
nounced when he rejoined his chum, “ that there’s 
another big store just a little way along here. 
It’s the nearest, so I guess we’d better go there 
first.” 

“ First? You don’t mean that you intend to 
make the round of all the department stores, do 
you ? ” 

“ I guess there wouldn’t be time for that,” an- 
swered Toby, shaking his head. “You see, my 
train leaves at three-forty. Besides, I guess that 
fellow with the red mustache would get tired, or 
maybe he’d make so much money by dinner time 
he’d just naturally quit. If he got eight dollars 
45 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


from every one he tackled he’d be mighty well off 
by noon, wouldn’t he? ” 

“ Toby, you’re an awful idiot,” laughed Arnold 
affectionately as he took him by the arm and 
steered him along the street. “ I’ll let you play 
detective till a quarter to one. Then you’ve got 
to give up and come home to luncheon.” 

“ All right. I dare say we can do half a dozen 
stores by that time. Listen, Arn, I’ll tell you 
what the man looked like so you can be on the 
watch too, eh? He was short and sort of slim, 
and he wore a brown overcoat with a velvet collar, 
and he had a reddish mustache cut close and sort 
of bristly, and he wore a slouch hat.” 

“A what?” 

” A slouch hat; a soft one, you know; felt. It 
was dark; I think either black or dark gray.” 

“ Well, that’s a pretty good description consid- 
ering you only saw him for a second,” applauded 
Arnold as they entered the store. “ We’d better 
keep out of sight as much as we can, because if he 
spotted us first he’d suspect something and run. 
Let’s go around here and work back and then 
come down the next aisle, and so on. Shall we? ” 
“I — I don’t know about that,” responded the 
46 


THE BROWN OVERCOAT 


other. “ Seems to me he’d be likely to stay 
around where the crowd was thickest, and per- 
haps he’d try to keep near a door in case he had 
to — to leave hurriedly.” 

“ That’s so, Toby. You’re a regular Sherlock 
Holmes ! All right. The crowd’s about as thick 
right here as it is anywhere. Have a look. Do 
you see him? ” Arnold was beginning to enjoy 
the task now and tried to look as much like his 
conception of a sleuth as he could. Toby, backed 
against a counter at one side of the big entrance 
peered and craned for several minutes, but finally 
announced that he didn’t see the quarry. So they 
began a pilgrimage of the lower floor, pausing 
wherever the crowd was densest. Near the eleva- 
tors they found a point of vantage and spent quite 
ten minutes but without result other than being 
pushed and elbowed and trod on. From there 
they went on to the foot of a central stairway and 
again took up their watch. But no red-mus- 
tached, brown-overcoated individual rewarded 
their sight, although they both more than once 
thrilled with the prospect of success at sight of a 
brown garment in the throng. They spent more 
than half an hour in that store, and Arnold’s en- 
47 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


thusiasm was waning fast by the time Toby ac- 
knowledged defeat and led the way toward the big 
doorway. 

“ I guess it’s no use,” sighed Toby. “ He’s a 
goner. And so’s my money.” 

“ Well, I told you that in the first place,” said 
Arnold, just a trifle peevishly by reason of having 
been shoved around and bumped into until he felt, 
as he told himself, like a wreck. “ Want to try 
any other place? It’s nearly twelve and — ” 

He stopped suddenly, for Toby’s hand was 
gripping his arm painfully. ** There he is! ** 
whispered Toby. Look! Over by the um* 
hr e lias I ” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE CAPTURE 

RNOLD’S gaze sped in the direction in- 



dicated, but for an instant the crowd in- 


^ JL. terfered. “ Are you sure? ” he asked in- 
credulously. 

“ Yes,” whispered Toby. “ I saw him! Now 
look. Am! ” 

Well, whether he was the man who had taken 
Toby’s purse or not, at least he tallied surprisingly 
with Toby’s description. He was standing with 
his back to the counter in front of a fan-shaped 
display of ladies’ umbrellas, looking impatiently 
and frowningly about him for all the world like a 
man kept waiting at an appointment. So well did 
he look the part, in fact, that Arnold was quite 
certain that Toby must be wrong. But a closer 
examination of the man convinced him that he was 
only acting, for the eyes under the pulled-down 
brim of a black felt hat darted swiftly hither and 
thither, reminding Arnold too much of a hawk. 


49 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Some twenty feet of aisle space, crowded with 
shoppers, separated the boys from the man in the 
brown overcoat, and it was only by raising himself 
on his tiptoes that Arnold could catch brief 
glimpses of the latter. 

“What are you going to do?” Arnold whis- 
pered excitedly. 

Toby deliberated. Then he shook his head. 
“ I don’t know. If there was a policeman 
here — ” 

“ They have detectives in these stores, I think,” 
said the other. “ Only I don’t know how a fel- 
low would know one if he saw him.” 

“ I might keep an eye on him while you found a 
policeman,” suggested Toby, doubtfully. 

“ Suppose he went off before I got the officer, 
though? ” 

“ That’s the trouble. We might ask a clerk to 
send for one, or — or find the proprietor — ” 

But the man in the brown overcoat settled the 
matter then and there by leaving his place at the 
counter and mingling with the outgoing throng. 
More by luck than anything else, Arnold saw and 
tugged Toby’s coat sleeve. “ Come on! ” he said 
quickly. “ He’s going! ” 

50 


THE CAPTURE 


The boys hurried toward the door, or tried to 
hurry, but their quarry was lost to sight for a mo- 
ment and when they reached the sidewalk nothing 
was to be seen of him. 

“ Which way? ” demanded Arnold. 

Toby, craning his head, dodging about, pushed 
and scowled at, was at a loss, and the adventure 
would have ended there and then had not Arnold’s 
gaze caught a brief flash of light brown between 
the jostling throng. “ I think I see him,” he 
cried. “ Come on, Toby ! ” He pushed his way 
to the edge of the broad sidewalk, Toby follow- 
ing at his heels, just in time to see the man disap- 
pear behind a car at the far side of the street. 
Without pause they dashed after. That they es- 
caped injury in the seething traffic was only by the 
veriest good fortune. An automobile almost ran 
them down half-way across, a trolley car ground 
its brakes in seeming chagrin as they leaped out 
of its path, and, after that, they were forced to re- 
main marooned between track and curbing for 
many moments before a tiny break in the line of 
vehicles allowed them to squeeze through. 

As might have been expected, by the time they 
found themselves on the sidewalk, very much out 

51 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


of breath, the brown overcoat was once more gone 
from view, and although they gazed up and down 
the street no glimpse of it rewarded them. 
Toby’s countenance took on an expression of de- 
spair that was almost ludicrous and Arnold fretted 
and fumed. 

“ If we hadn’t been held up out there we’d have 
caught him,” he declared as they stood undecid- 
edly on the edge of the sidewalk. “ Now he’s 
gone for good, I guess.” 

Toby nodded dolorous assent. “ I wish I’d 
just gone up and grabbed hold of him when I had 
the chance,” he said. “ Which way was he going, 
do you think? ” 

“ He wasn’t going any way. He was headed 
straight across the street.” 

“Why, then — ” Toby stopped and ran his 
gaze over the fronts of the buildings. Almost op- 
posite where they stood was the entrance of a 
small, third-rate hotel. “ I’ll bet he went in 
there,” said Toby with conviction. “ Maybe he 
lives there.” 

Arnold viewed the hostelry and shook his head. 
“ I wouldn’t be surprised if that is just where he 
went, but I don’t believe he lives there. Per- 

52 


THE CAPTURE 


haps if we wait awhile he will come out again. 
What do you think? ” 

“ I guess iPs all we can do,” replied Toby. 
“ But we had better get out of sight a little more, 
for if he came out and saw us he might recognize 
me and run.” 

The suggestion was a good one since this side 
of the thoroughfare was far less crowded and 
their present position was in fair view of the en- 
trance. So they retired to a near-by doorway 
from which, by peering around the corner of a 
plate-glass window, they could watch the hotel en- 
trance. It promised to be tiresome work and 
there were all sorts of things happening every 
minute to distract their gaze. But Fortune fav- 
ored them again and very shortly, for they had 
been there less than five minutes when Toby ut- 
tered a warning hiss and Arnold, whose gaze had 
wandered for an instant, looked around in time to 
see the man in the brown overcoat emerge from 
the hotel. He paused for a moment outside the 
doorway and speculatively looked up and down the 
street. Finally he turned eastward and strolled 
unhurriedly toward them. The boys withdrew 
further into their doorway, turning their backs 
53 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and becoming on the instant extremely interested 
in the window display. But the man didn’t even 
glance in their direction and as soon as he had 
passed the boys slipped out from concealment and 
followed. 

During the next seven or eight minutes, which 
time the man consumed in reaching the corner, 
there were many pauses. Their quarry paused 
frequently to look into windows or survey the pass- 
ers. Once he stopped and backed up against a 
building while his gaze speculatively followed two 
richly-dressed women. But apparently he de- 
cided that the women presented small chance for 
the display of his talents, for he went on again. 
All the time the boys looked anxiously for a po- 
liceman, but a policeman when wanted is an ex- 
tremely rare thing, and not one appeared in sight 
all the way along the block. At the corner the 
traffic signal was set at “ Stop ” and the man in the 
brown overcoat paused just back of the curb, one 
of an impatient throng of a dozen or so persons. 
Toby and Arnold stopped at a discreet distance. 
In the center of the intersecting thoroughfares, in 
command of the traffic signal, was a very tall and 
very efficient-looking policeman. The boys con- 
54 


THE CAPTURE 


suited hurriedly. Then they advanced toward the 
man in the brown overcoat. The northward and 
southward streams of hurrying vehicles continued. 
Toby drew up at the man’s right and Arnold on his 
other side. It was Toby who opened negotia- 
tions. 

‘‘We were going to point you out to the police- 
man,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice 
steady, “ but we decided to give you a chance 
first.” 

The man turned and scowled down with shifty 
eyes. 

“ What do you want? ” he demanded threaten- 
ingly. 

“ My purse and eight dollars and fifty cents,” 
said Toby. “ If you try to get away we’ll grab 
you and yell. Keep close, Arn ! ” 

The pickpocket glanced swiftly around at Ar- 
nold who was pressing closely against his left 
shoulder. Then his eyes darted up and down the 
avenue. At that moment the crossing officer’s 
whistle sounded shrilly and the signal turned. 
The little throng by the curb surged forward and 
with a sudden dart the man followed. But Toby 
had seized one arm and Arnold the other, and not 
55 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


fifty feet away was the policeman. The man in 
the brown overcoat tried, with a snarl, to throw 
off his captors, but they clung like leeches, and 
fearing to attract embarrassing attention the man 
slowed down to a hurried walk. Three abreast, 
the boys clinging affectionately to him, they 
crossed the street. Once across the pickpocket 
stopped of his own choice. 

“What is this?” he asked indignantly. “A 
hold-up?” 

“ If you want to call it that,” answered Toby 
steadily. “ All I want is the purse you stole from 
my pocket in Eastman’s. You hand it over and 
we’ll let you go.” 

“ Aw, I never saw you before,” snarled the man. 
“ Get out of here before I hand you something, 
kids. It won’t be no purse, neither!” He 
tugged in an effort to free himself from their 
grasps, but they held on hard. 

“Want us to shout?” asked Arnold signifi- 
cantly. The man’s belligerent gaze wavered. 
He cast a swift and dubious look toward the offi- 
cer. 

“ Well, what is it you want? ” he muttered. 

“ You know,” said Toby. “ A small yellow 

56 


THE CAPTURE 


coin-purse with eight dollars in it. Come on, now. 
You’d better be sensible.’’ 

“ I ain’t got any purse, honest. You can search 
me, boys 1 ” 

“ Then you threw it away,” responded Toby. 
“ It cost me seventy-five cents, but it was sort of 
ripping on the seams, so we’ll call it fifty. Eight- 
fifty is what I want from you then.” 

“ Well, I’ll be blowedl ” said the man with a 
trace of unwilling admiration. Then he actually 
chuckled. “ Say, kid, you’ve got your nerve, all 
right, ain’t you? Say, I kinder think maybe you 
ought to have it. You was decent not to squeal 
to the cop. All right, kid, you win ! But you got 
to let go my arms if you want me to dig for it.” 

Toby questioned Arnold with a glance. ‘‘ Give 
him his right arm, Toby,” said Arnold. “ If he 
starts to go, grab him again. I’ve got him here.” 

“Aw, say, can’t you believe a feller?” asked 
the man aggrievedly. “ I said I’d loosen up an’ 
I’ll do it. Gee, you rich guys is the limit! 
What’s eight dollars to fellers like you, anyway? 
Why don’t you give the rest of us a chance to 
live?” 

He thrust the hand Toby had released between 

57 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the buttons of his overcoat and fumbled an instant, 
while Toby watched narrowly and Arnold clung 
like grim death to the other arm. 

“ Why don’t you pick out an honest way to 
live? ” asked Toby. 

The man shrugged his shoulders. “ Guess I 
wasn’t brung up right,” he answered, with a grin. 
“ It ain’t so easy to walk the straight an’ narrer 
when you get started all wrong, kid. Here’s your 
money. I threw the purse away. It ain’t safe 
to keep purses around you. Let me have that 
other hand so’s I can count it off, can’t you? ” 

He had brought out a roll of bills quite two 
inches thick. Toby hesitated, dubious. “ Prom- 
ise not to run? ” he asked finally. 

“Wordof honor, kid!” 

“ Let him go, Arn.” 

“ Thank you, gentlemen,” said the man in the 
brown overcoat ironically. “ Now then, got fifty 
cents? Here’s your nine dollars.” He peeled 
off a five and four ones and Arnold produced a 
fifty cent piece and the exchange was made. As 
Toby slipped the recovered wealth into an inner 
pocket the man said: “That’s right, kid. Let 
me tell you something. Don’t never carry money 

58 


THE CAPTURE 


in an outside pocket. Leastways, not in this 
town! ’Tain’t safe. An* it*s an awful tempta- 
tion to fellers like me. So long, cullies. Good 
luck! ” 

“ Good-by,” said Toby. 

The man in the brown overcoat smiled, winked, 
pulled his hat to a new angle and sauntered off and 
was soon lost to sight in the throng. Toby drew 
a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction. 

“ Jiminy, Arn, I never thought I’d get that 
back, did you? ” 

“ I never did, Toby. You certainly were lucky. 
He wasn’t such a bad sort after all, was he? ” 

“N — no.” Toby gazed thoughtfully at the 
busy scene before them. “ I dare say there’s a 
lot in what he said, Arn. About getting started 
right, I mean. I guess lots of folks wouldn’t be 
dishonest if they’d had the right sort of — of 
bringing up, eh? ” 

“ I guess so. Look here, it’s nearly one 
o’clock ! What’ll you do about buying your 
presents?” 

“ I guess it’s too late now.” Toby’s face fell. 

“ I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll find a tele- 
phone and send word we won’t be home for lunch- 
59 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


eon, eh? We’ll get a bite to eat somewhere and 
then you can shop until nearly three. You can 
do a lot in two hours. What do you say? ” 

“Would you mind? I’d like awfully to do 
that.” 

“ Not a bit. It’ll be fun. I know a place near 
here where we can get fine eats. Come on! ” 

But, although Toby came on, when Arnold 
turned to speak to him a minute later he wasn’t 
there. Impatiently Arnold turned back. Toby 
had paused a few yards in the rear. 

“ For the love of mud, Toby, get a move on, 
can’t you? ” exclaimed Arnold. “ What’s wrong 
now? ” 

“ Nothing,” was the satisfied response. “ I 
only just stopped to see if my money was still 
there. I won’t feel really safe until I’ve spent it, I 
guess! ” 


CHAPTER Vi 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 

A rnold had his wish that Christmas, for 
when Toby awoke on the morning of the 
twenty-fifth in his little room under the 
eaves he found that a miracle had occurred while 
he slept. In fact the miracle was still occurring! 
Greenhaven was smothered in snow, and big, lazy 
flakes were still falling from a leaden, misty void. 
Harbor Street, as it wound northward, showed a 
single line of footprints, and those were fast being 
obliterated. The boat yard, across the road, was 
covered with a white mantle. Beyond, the Cove 
was dimly discernible, gray-green. The stern of 
a coal-scow peered through the white mist from 
the end of Rollinson’s Wharf and a little black 
fishing boat swung at moorings near by. It was a 
white, silent and, to Toby, very wonderful world 
that met the sight that Christmas morning. But 
Toby didn’t linger long at his window, for the 
room was cold. Instead, wondering whether Ar- 
6i 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


nold had discovered the snow yet, and deciding, 
with a chuckle, that he hadn’t, since it was only 
seven and Arnold was not a very early riser when 
at home, he hurried into his clothes and was pres- 
ently on his way down the creaky staircase. 

Appetizing odors came from the kitchen, but 
the dining-room was deserted save for Mr. Mur- 
phy. Mr. Murphy’s greeting was a strident 
“ Hello, dearie I Won’t you come in and take off 
your bonnet?” After which he sidled lumber- 
somely along his perch, put his head coyly on one 
side and chuckled. 

y “ Hello, you old scoundrel,” said Toby. 
‘‘ Merry Christmas to you.” He rubbed the par- 
rot’s head with a finger and Mr. Murphy closed 
his beady eyes and enjoyed it. Toby was glad 
there was no one there, for it gave him an oppor- 
tunity to place the packages he had brought 
around the table. Others, he saw, had been ahead 
of him, for already each plate held its quota of 
mysterious parcels tied with red ribbon. Then 
Phebe came in from the kitchen and Mr. Tucker 
stamped in from outdoors and Christmas greetings 
mingled, while Mr. Murphy, who loved excite- 
ment, bobbed about on his perch and cried “ All 
62 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 


hands stand by! and “ Come to breakfast! 
Come to breakfast! Come to breakfast! ” 
And in the middle of the hubbub appeared Toby’s 
mother bearing a big platter, and a minute later 
they were all seated at the table. 

That was a very merry meal. One after an- 
other the packages were undone and the contents 
exclaimed upon and passed from hand to hand to 
be admired and every one quite forgot to eat any- 
thing until all the presents had been opened. Mr. 
Tucker was very much pleased with his shaving 
set, and Phebe, who was thirteen and fast becom- 
ing a very pretty young lady, wound the blue-and- 
white silk scarf Toby had given her round her 
throat and refused to be parted from it. Toby’s 
gift to his mother was a pair of gloves which Mrs. 
Tucker declared very much too fine for her. 
The fact that they were a full size too small was 
not divulged. Toby’s own presents were simple 
and practical ; a dressing-gown and handkerchiefs 
from his mother and sister, a five-dollar gold piece 
from his father, a pair of woolen mittens from 
Long Tim and a watch-fob of braided leather 
from Shorty Joe. Tim and Joe worked in Mr. 
Tucker’s boat yard. When, later in the day, 

63 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Billy Plank, the postman, plowed up to the door, 
there was another gift for Toby. Of course he 
guessed right away who it was from, and his guess 
proved right. There was a card on top of the lit- 
tle blue box which read: “ Merry Christmas to 
Toby from Arnold.” When the layer of cotton 
had been removed, as well as much white tissue 
paper, the gift resolved itself into a pair of gold 
cuff-links with the letters T. T. intertwined on 
them. Of course, as Toby said, they were much 
too expensive for his use, but they pleased him im- 
mensely and he carried them around in his pocket 
all day and viewed them proudly at intervals. 
By comparison, his gift to Arnold, an inexpensive 
little leather case for pins and studs, looked ra- 
ther mean, but he was much too sensible to be wor- 
ried over it. 

After breakfast he set out to visit Long Tim 
and Shorty Joe and deliver the presents he had 
brought them, two ties of most remarkable hues 
which, judged solely as color effects, had been stu- 
pendously cheap at thirty-seven cents apiece ! 
Fortunately, as Toby well knew, both Joe and 
Tim were fond of bright colors, and his gifts were 
received with open-eyed admiration. It was al- 
64 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 

most noon when he at last got away from Shorty 
Joe, who had much to tell him of happenings dur- 
ing his three months’ absence from Greenhaven. 
They weren’t very important happenings, but they 
were of interest to Toby. Dinner was at two 
o’clock, and Toby’s Uncle Benedict and Aunt 
Sarah, from Good Ground, arrived a few minutes 
before. Aunt Sarah bringing him a pair of worsted 
gloves which she had knitted. Toby was sorry 
that he had neglected to provide a gift for her, but 
Aunt Sarah didn’t appear to notice the omission. 
Dinner was a very jolly and very hearty affair, and 
after it was over, Toby, resisting a desire to go to 
sleep, persuaded Phebe to don her new muffler and 
go for a walk with him. It was getting well along 
toward dusk by that time and the snow, which 
had fallen steadily since before midnight, had al- 
most stopped. They took the road through the 
town and then turned up the hill behind the little 
village from which a wonderful view of Spanish 
Harbor and the bay lay before them. They had 
lots to talk about and Phebe was full of questions 
regarding Toby’s school adventures. On the way 
back they met two of Toby’s friends, Billy Con^ 
ners and Gus Whalen, and the quartette went on 
65 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


to the little white cottage around the end of the 
Cove and satisfied surprisingly vigorous hungers 
with slices of cold turkey and cranberry tarts. 

Toby returned to New York Monday after- 
noon and spent a glorious four days with Arnold. 
They went twice to theaters, had several sleigh 
rides far out into the country, patronized the 
“ movies ” two afternoons, explored the Park, 
lunched one day with Arnold’s father at a sumptu- 
ous club and, in short, were busy every moment 
and went to bed each night so tired that they fell 
asleep the instant their heads touched the pillows. 

On Friday Arnold went back to Greenhaven 
with Toby and shared the latter’s none too gener- 
ous bed, since a guest chamber was something the 
little house didn’t boast, until Sunday. A sharp 
breeze Friday night provided fair skating on the 
marsh and it was on Saturday that Toby received 
his first instruction in the duties of a hockey 
player. They had no hockey sticks and so they 
used two lengths of wood that Long Tim cut for 
them in the boat shed and a block of mahogany. 
Toby found that while he could out-skate his chum 
in a straight-away race, the latter could out-man- 
euver him with ease. Arnold could stop and 
66 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 


turn and dodge with the quickness of a cat! 
Toby’s efforts to emulate him resulted in many 
laughable and sometimes jarring upsets. Per- 
haps that lesson didn’t increase his knowledge be- 
yond showing him what a lot he had to learn, but 
it provided a heap of fun. Sunday morning they 
tramped over to the Head, through a biting east- 
erly gale, and Arnold, who had provided himself 
with the key of his father’s summer house there, 
rummaged through the dark rooms for an elusive 
baseman’s glove. Eventually it came to light, but 
not before the two boys were pretty well chilled 
through. They tried to light a fire in the kitchen 
range to warm themselves by before setting out on 
the return journey, but the range absolutely re- 
fused to draw and they had finally to flee, choking 
and coughing from the smoke that billowed 
through the cracks. Half-way back Arnold sud- 
denly began to laugh and in answer to Toby’s con- 
cerned inquiries explained that the reason the stove 
hadn’t drawn was because the chimney-tops were 
carefully covered, a fact which he had forgotten 
until the moment 1 

Arnold went home in the afternoon, Toby 
and Phebe accompanying him as far as the station 
67 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

at Riverport. After that the remainder of the 
Christmas vacation simply melted away, much as 
the snow did on Monday when the easterly gale 
swept around to the south and a radiant sun 
smiled down on the dripping world. It didn’t 
seem to Toby that he had been away from Yard- 
ley Hall more than a half-dozen days, but here it 
was Tuesday and he was on his way back again I 
But going back wasn’t unpleasant. On the con- 
trary, If anything had happened to prevent his go- 
ing back he would have been a most unhappy 
youth. There was lots to look forward to, 
hockey, amongst other things, for Toby had by 
now decided that it was his bounden duty to go to 
the aid of the School in Its commendable endeavor 
to turn out a winning seven. As there was a 
whole hour and a quarter to spend before he was 
to meet Arnold at the station, he set out, not with- 
out trepidation, to purchase one of those invalua- 
ble little blue-covered books which tell you how to 
perform every sort of athletic stunt from swinging 
Indian clubs to throwing a fifty-slx-pound weight. 
Of course Toby wasn’t Interested In clubs or 
weights just now. What he was after was a hand- 
book on hockey, and after some searching up and 
68 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 


down and across the town, with one eye on the 
clock, so to speak, he found it. You may be sure 
that Toby’s scant funds lay at the bottom of his 
most inaccessible pocket. Had he so much as 
sighted a brown overcoat he would have run I 
When Arnold found him he was sitting in a seat 
in the waiting-room, his feet on his old yellow va- 
lise and his eyes glued to page 19 of “How to 
Play Hockey.” 

They boarded the ten-forty train and were soon 
gliding through the long tunnel on their way back 
to school and duties. But they didn’t sit in a 
parlor car this time. Toby would have none of 
such luxury, and rather than be parted from him 
Arnold shared his seat in a day coach. There 
were some twenty or thirty other Yardley fellows 
on board and the time went swiftly, and almost 
before they knew it they were crossing the little 
bridge and the school buildings were smiling down 
welcomingly from the hill and the trainman was 
calling “Wissiningl Wissining!” at the top of 
his voice. 

Well, it was good to be back again, Toby 
thought as, spurning carriages and valiantly lug- 
ging their bags, they set off along the road to 
69 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

school. Oxford Hall, imposing and a bit grim 
by reason of its gray granite walls, met their sight 
first as they left the tiny village and started up the 
hill. At the top of the tall pole in front the 
flag was snapping in the brisk breeze. Nerle 
Hall, the home of the Preparatory Class boys, 
peered around the corner of Oxford, almost friv- 
olous by comparison with its red brick and lime- 
stone trimming. A moment later, following the 
road to the right at the beginning of its wide 
swing around the base of the Prospect, as the pla- 
teau was called, other buildings came into sight: 
Whitson, like Oxford, of granite; Clarke, a rep- 
lica of Nerle; and, just showing between the 
other buildings, Dudley Hall, the exclusive res- 
idence of the graduating class. The buildings at 
Yardley follow the curve of the Prospect, forming 
a somewhat stunted letter J, with the Kingdon 
Gymnasium, out of sight from the read, doing 
duty as the tip of the curve and Dudley set in back 
like a misplaced dot. From the gymnasium the 
ground slopes gently back to the river, and there is 
the playing field and the boat house and landing 
and, further beyond, a fair nine-hole golf course. 
Across the river from the field lies a wide expanse 
70 


CHRISTMAS DAYS 


of salt meadow known as Meeker’s Marsh. A 
little way upstream is Flat Island and a little fur- 
ther downstream is Loon Island. And not far 
from Loon Island is the footbridge that connects 
Wissining with Greenburg and the railway bridge 
across which trains dash or trundle at almost ev- 
ery hour of the day or night. From the bridges 
the little river runs fairly straight to the Sound, 
a mile or so away. 

But we have got far from the two boys who, 
bags swinging — and beginning to feel extremely 
heavy by now — are breasting the last slope of the 
well-kept roadway. The old gray granite front 
of Whitson greets them and Arnold, followed by 
Toby, seeks the portal and climbs the worn stairs 
to the second floor. There, while Arnold unpacks 
his bag, Toby lodges himself on the window-seat 
and, hugging his knees, talks and gazes off over 
the tops of the trees to the sparkling waters of the 
Sound and feels for the moment very glad to be 
back there and very determined to study hard all 
through this new term. And presently Homer 
Wilkins bangs the door open and comes in drag- 
ging a big kit-bag and conversation becomes ejac- 
ulatory and somewhat noisy, and questions and an- 

71 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


swers tumble over each other. Wilkins, who 
shares Number 12 with Arnold, is a big, jolly 
looking chap of seventeen, a third class boy who 
should be in the second but who never has time 
enough to do the necessary amount of studying. 
Another train reaches the station and another in- 
flux of returning students comes up the hill, and 
Arnold and Toby and Homer squeeze their bod- 
ies half out the window and hail them. And 
soon after Toby takes up his bag again and climbs 
the last flight and finds himself once more in his 
little room under the slates, with the frayed arm- 
chair and the wardrobe whose doors won’t stay 
shut unless wedged and the old worn-out rug and 
— yes, a distinct odor of benzine ! 


CHAPTER VI 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 

T hat afternoon at three o’clock Toby ac- 
companied Arnold to the gymnasium 
where the hockey candidates were as- 
sembled in the baseball cage. The arrival of cold 
weather had added to the enthusiasm and many 
new recruits were on hand. Arnold haled Toby 
to Captain Crowell, saluted gravely and an- 
nounced: “Sir, I have the honor to announce 
that in pursuance of your orders I have taken into 
custody and hereby deliver to you the body of one 
T. Tucker. Please sign the receipt! ” 

“ Hello, Arn, you crazy chump,” responded 
Crowell. “ Much obliged, just the same. Glad 
to have seen you. Tucker. Hope you’ll like us and 
our merry pastime. Just wait around a few 
minutes and we’ll get things started. Say, Arn, 
you’re getting a good many fellows out, it seems. 
There’s Jim Rose. I want to see him a minute.” 
Crowell hurried away and Toby gazed about 
73 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


him. Many of those present he knew by sight, 
but only a very few were speaking acquaintances. 
Among the latter were Grover Beech, Frank Lam- 
son, Jim Rose and Ted Halliday. There were 
others who had soug'ht Toby’s services in the mat- 
ter of pressing their clothes but who never seemed 
to recall him when they met in public. Arnold 
had wandered away to speak to Frank Lamson 
and Toby found himself embarrassingly alone un- 
til a somewhat stout youth with a pink-and-white 
countenance ranged alongside and remarked : 
“ Quite a mob, isn’t it? Must be fifty, I guess. 
So many criminal looking countenances, too ! 
Your name’s Tucker, isn’t it? ” 

Toby acknowledged it and the pink-faced youth 
went on cheerfully: “ I suppose you’re out for 
the second. So’m 1. Trying for goal. What’s 
your line? ” 

“Line? Oh, goal, too, I think. Crowell 
seemed to think I’d better try that.” 

“Hah! Me hated rival!” exclaimed the 
other beamingly. “ ‘ Tucker versus Creel, or 
The Struggle for Goal ! ’ Sounds exciting, doesn’t 
it? Know what Crowell’s going to spring on us 
in a minute? ” 


74 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


Toby shook his head, smiling. He found 
Creel amusing. 

“ Well, he’s going to inform us that to-morrow 
afternoon we’re expected to go down and build 
the rink. Last winter I was horribly ill that 
day.” Sid Creel winked knowingly. “ Had a 
beastly cold. If I was you I’d sneeze a few times 
and blow my nose. That gives you a chance of 
coming down with grippe before to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, I guess I shan’t mind helping,” laughed 
Toby. “ How do we do it? ” 

“ You lug a lot of planks from under the grand- 
stand and nail ’em together and drive posts into 
the ground, whic^h is always frozen solid, and then 
you shovel dirt up outside the planks. It’s all 
right if you’re strong and healthy, but to one of 
my weak constitution it’s fierce. After you get 
the dirt shoveled up — Did you ever shovel 
frozen dirt? No? Well, it’s no fun. Last 
year they had to pick it first. You’d think they’d 
make the rink before it gets cold, wouldn’t you? ” 

“ Why, yes, I should,” agreed Toby. “ Why 
don’t they? ” 

Creel shook his head sadly. “ No one knows. 
It’s a sort of — sort of impenetrable mystery. I 
75 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


guess it just isn’t done. Anyway, after you get the 
dirt piled up outside the planks you hitch a hose 
to the hydrant and turn the water on and wait for 
it to freeze.” 

“ Well, that part sounds easy,” said Toby. 

“ It may sound easy, but it isn’t,” responded 
the other boy lugubriously. “ Because you have 
to stand around and watch the bank you’ve made. 
You see, the dirt’s mostly in chunks and of course 
the water oozes out under the bottom of the 
planks and you have to yell for help and shovel 
more dirt on and puddle it down with your feet. 
And while you’re choking up one leak about thirty- 
eleven others start. Oh, it’s a picnic — not! ” 

“ But look here,” objected Toby, puzzled. 
“ If you were sick last time how do you know so 
much about it? ” 

Creel gazed sadly across the cage and made no 
answer for a moment. Then he sighed deeply, 
and: “ They came up to the room and pulled me 
out,” he answered sadly. “ Unfeeling brutes 1 ” 

Toby’s laughter was interrupted by Captain 
Crowell, who called for attention. “ There won’t 
be any practice this afternoon, fellows,” an- 
nounced Crowell. “ And I don’t believe there 
76 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 

will be any more until we get the rink ready. 
We’re going to do that to-morrow afternoon. 
Every one be on hand as near three as possible 
so we can get the work done before dark. It 
doesn’t take long if we all show up. If any 
of you fellows develop colds between now and 
then you needn’t report again. We don’t want 
fellows on the teams who are as delicate as that.” 
Toby thought Crowell’s gaze dwelt a moment on 
Sid Creel’s innocent countenance. ‘‘ A lot of you 
are new to the game and I want to tell you right 
now, so there won’t be any kick coming later, that 
if you put your names down for hockey you’ll have 
to show up regularly or you’ll be dropped. We 
mean to turn out the best seven this year that has 
ever played for Yardley, and if we are to do that 
you’ll simply have to make up your minds to come 
out regularly for practice and work as hard as you 
know how. That means the second team candi- 
dates as well as the first. As soon as we get ice 
the class teams will be made up, and any fellow 
that shows good hockey with his class team will 
have a chance to show what he can do on the 
school squad. You fellows who haven’t put your 
names down will please do it before you leave. 
77 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Halliday is manager and he will take them. I 
guess that’s about all, fellows. Only if you really 
want to make the teams, show it by doing your 
best. Listen to what is told you and do your best 
right from the start. We play our first outside 
game in a little more than a week, so, you see, 
there isn’t much time to get together. I hope 
you’ll all pull hard for a victory over Broadwood 
this year. We owe her two lickings and we 
might as well start out this winter and give her 
the first one. Don’t forget to-morrow afternoon 
at three sharp, fellows.” 

Toby gave his name to Ted Halliday and found 
Arnold waiting for him at the door of the cage 
in conversation with Frank Lamson. Frank 
hailed Toby jovially. “ Going to be a hockey 
star, Toby?” he asked. “Well, we need a few 
earnest youths like you. Have a good time on 
your vacation? You and Arn must have been 
mighty busy, I guess. I called up twice on the 
’phone and each time they told me that you were 
out doing the town. How’s Greenhaven? Say, 
that must be a dreary hole in winter, isn’t it? Is 
your sister well? ” 

“ Fine, thanks. Going back, Arn? ” 

78 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


N — no, I guess I’ll loaf around here awhile. 
See you at supper, Toby.” 

Arnold and Frank parted from him on the steps 
and Toby made his way across the yard, past the 
sun-dial at the meeting of the paths in front of 
Dudley and, finally, through the colonnade that 
joined Oxford and Whitson and so around to the 
entrance of his dormitory. As he went he puz- 
zled again over the friendship that existed be- 
tween Arnold and Frank. Personally, he 
thought Frank Lamson the most unlikeable fellow 
he had ever met. Perhaps, though, he reflected, 
Frank possessed some qualities apparent to Arnold 
and not to him. The two had been friends, 
though never exactly chums, for several years, 
while Toby and Arnold had known each other 
only since the preceeding June. Probably when 
you had known a fellow three or four years you 
got to like him in spite of his — his faults. Toby 
almost said “ meannesses,” but charitably substi- 
tuted the other word. Of course, there was no 
reason why Arn shouldn’t go with Frank if he 
wished to, only — well, for a fortnight or so pre- 
ceding Christmas recess Arn had spent a good 
deal more time with Frank than he had with 


79 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Toby, and the latter wondered, as he climbed the 
twilight stairways to his room, whether Arn was 
beginning to get tired of him. He was very fond 
of Arnold and the contingency made him feel ra- 
ther sad and lonely. 

He shed his sweater and cap and seated himself 
at the deal table, which just now was a study desk 
and not an ironing-board, and drew a book 
toward him. But his thoughts refused to interest 
themselves in Cassar and he was soon staring 
out the window and drumming a slow tattoo on 
his teeth with the rubber tip of his pencil. Per- 
haps it was only imagination, but, looking back on 
the last two weeks of vacation, it seemed to him 
now that Arnold had been less chummy, that some- 
thing of the wonderful friendship of the summer 
had been lacking. Of course, Arnold had been 
perfectly splendid to him, had given him an aw- 
fully good time in New York and had probably 
given up other good times in order to spend that 
week-end with him at Greenhaven. And there 
were the gold cuff-links, too. Toby arose and got 
them from a hidden corner of the top drawer in 
the bureau and took them back to the window and 
looked at them admiringly and even curiously, as 
8o 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


though striving to draw reassurance from them. 
In the end he laid them on the table and sank back 
into his chair. They were handsome and costly, 
but they meant little, after all. Arnold had heaps 
of money to spend; as much, perhaps, as any fel- 
low in school. Doubtless he would have given 
him something equally as fine had their friendship 
been far less close. Why, for all he knew, Arn 
might have given just such a Christmas present to 
Frank Lamson ! A wave of something very much 
like jealousy went over him and he scowled at the 
cuff-links quite ferociously and pushed them dis- 
tastefully aside. Just that afternoon he had no- 
ticed a new pin in Frank’s tie, a moonstone, he 
thought it was, held in a gold claw. It was just 
the sort of a thing that Arnold would select. In 
fact, now that he thought of it, Arnold had a pin 
very much like it! There was no doubt in the 
world that that moonstone scarf-pin had been Ar- 
nold’s Christmas present to Frank, and Toby sud- 
denly felt very, very miserable. 

The daylight faded and the words on the pages 
of the open book were no longer legible, although 
that was a matter of indifference to Toby since he 
wasn’t looking at them. What Toby was doing 

8i 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


was something far less commendable and useful 
than studying his Latin. He was imagining all 
sorts of uncharitable things about Arnold and try- 
ing to recall all the faults that Frank Lamson had 
ever exhibited and making himself extremely mis- 
erable. And finally he arose with a shrug of his 
broad shoulders and lighted the gas and pulled 
down the shade. After that he scooped the cuff- 
links up contemptuously and tossed them back into 
the bureau drawer. 

“ Let him,” he muttered. “ Who cares, any- 
way? He’s not the only fellow in school! I 
guess I can find some one else to chum with if I 
make up my mind to do it.” He closed the bu- 
reau drawer with a bang. “ He won’t ever see me 
wearing those things. Maybe he bought them for 
Frank and Frank didn’t like them, or something! 
He can have ’em if he wants ’em. I’m sure I 
don’t! ” 

After that, since there were no clothes to be 
cleaned or pressed this afternoon, he resolutely 
tried to study, and really did manage to imbibe a 
certain amount of knowledge by the time the sup- 
per hour came. He and Arnold had managed to 
secure seats at the same table in commons (Yard- 
8'2 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


ley Hall, founded by an English schoolmaster, still 
retained a few English terms) ; but they had not 
been able to get seats together, and save on infre- 
quent occasions when some boy’s absence made a 
rearrangement possible they were divided by the 
width of the table. Supper was usually a jolly 
and enjoyable meal for Toby, as it was for most 
others, but to-night he was plainly out of sorts, 
and when Arnold came in a trifle late and sank into 
his chair looking flushed and happy, he became 
more morose than ever. Arnold’s greeting was 
answered coldly, but Arnold failed to notice the 
fact and went to work with a good will on the cold 
meat and baked potatoes which formed the princi- 
pal course. There was a good deal of talk and 
laughter that evening amongst the ten occupants 
of Table 14, and consequently Toby’s silence and 
gloom went unnoted by any one until supper was 
almost over. Then Arnold, appealing to Toby 
for confirmation of a story he had been narrating, 
was met with such a chilling response that he 
paused open-mouthed and stared across at his 
friend. 

“ Well, what’s wrong with you, T. Tucker? ” 
he asked wonderingly. 


83 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Nothing,” replied Toby, very haughtily. 

Several other fellows turned to observe him and 
the younger of the two Curran brothers laughed 
and said: “ Oh, Tucker’s peeved because trade’s 
fallen off. Every fellow had his trousers pressed 
at home, I guess.” 

Jack Curran frowned at his brother. ‘‘ Cut 
that out. Will,” he growled. “ Try to act like a 
gentleman even if it hurts you. I say. Glad, I 
found that book I told you about. If you want it, 
come around, will you? ” 

Gladwin replied and conversation became gen- 
eral again. But now and then Arnold cast a puz- 
zled glance across at Toby’s lowered head and 
wondered what had happened to the usually even- 
tempered chum. By that time Toby was angry 
with himself for having shown his feelings. He 
wouldn’t have had the other fellows at the table 

4 

guess the reason for his glumness for anything in 
the world. Nor did he want Arnold to guess it. 
He had meant to treat the latter with chill indif- 
ference ; he hadn’t intended to act like a sulky kid. 
When he left the table Arnold followed him to 
join him on the way out as was usual, but to-night 
Toby skirted another table, reached the corri- 

84 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


dor in advance of Arnold and, without a glance, 
pushed through the swinging door to the stairway 
and mounted swiftly to his room. Once there he 
paused on the threshold and listened. If he had 
thought to hear Arnold’s footsteps in pursuit he 
was mistaken, for Arnold, viewing his friend’s 
singular behavior, had merely shrugged his shoul- 
ders a bit irritably and let him go. 

In his room again, Toby turned up the light, 
which had been reduced to a mere pin-point of 
flame, dragged the chair to the table again and, 
settling his head in his hands, determinedly at- 
tacked his Latin. But for a long while, although 
he kept his eyes on the page, his ears were strained 
for the sound of Arnold’s footsteps. Other foot- 
steps echoed down the corridor and several doors 
opened and shut. Roy Stillwell, across the cor- 
ridor, was singing a football song, keeping time 
with his heels on the floor: 

Old Yardley can’t be beat, my boy, 

She’s bound to win the game! 

So give a cheer for Yardley, and 
Hats off to Yardley’s fame! ” 

Toby, listening whether he wanted to or not, 
wished Stillwell would be quiet. How could a 

85 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

fellow study with such an uproar going on? 
Presently Stillwell was quiet, and then Toby sort 
of wished he would sing again. The silence was 
horribly lonesome. He raised his eyes from 
the book at last and viewed disconsolately the 
shabby little room. He wished himself back at 
home and, for the time at least, honestly regretted 
ever having come to Yardley. It had been, he 
assured himself, a silly thing to do. Most of the 
fellows weren’t his sort. Nearly all that he knew 
— and he knew few enough — were boys with 
well-to-do parents, boys who had about every- 
thing they wanted, who lived in comfortable rooms 
with pictures on the walls and rugs on the floors 
and easy-chairs to loll in and all sorts of nice 
things. Secretly, of course, if not openly — and 
he had to acknowledge grudgingly that they didn’t 
do it openly — they looked down on him for being 
poor and ill-dressed and having to press clothes 
to make enough money to assure his return an- 
other year. They weren’t his kind at all. It 
would have been far better had he kept on at the 
high school in Johnstown, as he would have done 
if Arnold hadn’t beguiled him with glowing ac- 
counts of Yardley. And there was the matter of 
86 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


the scholarship, too. Toby had rather hoped to 
secure one of the six Fourth Year scholarships, if 
not a Ripley, which credited one with sixty dollars 
against the tuition fee, then a Haynes, which car- 
ried fifty dollars with it Arnold had been quite 
sure that Toby could do it and Toby had thought 
so himself just at first, but there had been trouble 
with mathematics in October and during the time 
that he had striven to make good as a football 
player he had slumped a little in Latin as well. 
The announcement would be made the last of the 
week, but Toby no longer dared hope to hear 
his name coupled with one of the prizes. 

Suddenly he turned his gaze toward the door 
and listened intently. Footsteps on the stairs! 
They sounded like Arnold’s! Then they came 
along the corridor, nearer and nearer. Were they 
Arnold’s? One instant Toby thought they were 
and the next doubted it. They weren’t quite like, 
but if they stopped at his door — 

They did stop ! And a knock sounded ! Toby 
held his breath. He wanted to run across the 
room and throw the door open, but something 
held him motionless. Another knock, louder this 
time, and then the door-knob was tried. 

87 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Let him knock,” said Toby to himself stub- 
bornly. But he didn’t really mean it. If Arnold 
called, he decided, he would let him in. He 
waited tensely. There was a moment’s silence 
outside. Arnold must know that he was in, Toby 
assured himself, for he could see the light through 
the transom and if he really cared about seeing 
him he would try again. If he didn’t — 

“Tucker!” called a voice from beyond the 
locked door. “ Tucker, are you in there? ” 
Toby’s heart sank. It wasn’t Arnold after all 1 
Outside the door stood a small and apologetic pre- 
paratory class youth with a suit draped across one 
arm. “ S-sorry to disturb you. Tucker,” he 
stammered, “ but I wanted to know if you thought 
you c-could do anything with these. Th- 
they’re in an awful mess. I b-brushed up 
against some paint in the village to-day.” 

“ I’ll fix them,” answered Toby listlessly. 
“What’s the name? Lingard? All right. I’ll 
have them for you to-morrow evening.” 

“ Thanks,” exclaimed the youngster gratefully. 
“I — I hope you won’t find them too — too m- 
messy.” 

“ I guess not. Good-night.” 

88 


FRIENDS FALL OUT 


Toby closed the door again, tossed the clothes 
over the back of the dilapidated arm-chair and re- 
turned gloomily to his lessons. He was a fool, 
he muttered, to think Arn cared enough to seek 
him out. Not that it mattered, however. Not 
a bit! Arn could plaguey well suit himself. He 
didn’t care I 


CHAPTER VII 


FIRST PRACTICE 

I T’S remarkable how different things look in 
the morning! A chap may go to bed the 
night before in the seventh subway of despair 
and wake up in the morning feeling quite cheerful 
and contented. And this is especially true if the 
sun happens to be shining and a little frosty, nippy 
breeze is blowing in at the window and the faint 
odor of coffee and other delectable things floats 
in with the breeze. As Toby’s room was over 
the kitchen, which occupied the basement of Whit- 
son, he was quite frequently treated to a present- 
ment of what was to happen in commons. This 
morning, sitting on the edge of his bed, and shiv- 
ering a little as the playful zephyrs caressed his 
legs, he sniffed knowingly and decided that there 
was an unmistakably choppy bouquet to the fra- 
grance arising from the kitchen windows. And he 
was pleased, because he was especially fond of 
lamb chops. Also, he was particularly hungry to- 
90 


FIRST PRACTICE 


day, having eaten scantily of supper because — 
That because brought back to memory his over- 
night’s grievance. But this morning it seemed 
absurdly trifling. He had, he decided, made a 
silly ass of himself, and he wondered what on 
earth had got into him! He would find Arnold 
the very first thing and show him that he was 
sorry. Of course Arnold liked Frank Lamson. 
Why shouldn’t he, since they had known each 
other several years? Besides, Frank, after all, 
wasn’t such a bad chap probably — if you knew 
him well 1 Meanwhile there was a bath to be 
taken, and one had to do a lot of hustling to get 
a bath in before breakfast for the reason that the 
bathing facilities in Whitson were archaic and 
there were some twelve boys for each tub. This 
knowledge spurred Toby to action and he jumped 
up and closed the window with a bang, seized 
the gorgeous new crimson dressing-gown that his 
mother had given him for Christmas and, strug- 
ling hurriedly into it, dashed down the hall. For 
once promptness earned its reward. Only Still- 
well and Framer were ahead of him and Toby 
was back in his room in five minutes, glowing and 
happy and hungry. 


91 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


When, on his way downstairs, he knocked at the 
door of Number 12 and was invited to enter, he 
found only Homer Wilkins within. Homer was 
still very incompletely attired and very sleepy 
looking, and he informed Toby with a prodigious 
yawn, that Arn had gone on down. “ He’s a reg- 
ular Little Brighteyes,” he complained. “ No 
worm would have half a chance with Arn. 
What’s the weather like, Toby? ” 

“ Great! You’d better hustle if you want any 
breakfast.” 

“ I don’t expect any,” replied Homer sadly. 
“ I haven’t had a square meal in the morning since 
I’ve been here. Everything’s sold out when I get 
down. They ought to have a lunch-wagon for 
fellows — ” 

But Toby didn’t hear the rest. Arnold was 
busily adorning his plate of oatmeal with much 
cream and sugar when Toby reached the table. 
Only four others were on hand so far. 

“ Morning,” greeted Toby as he sat down and 
pulled his napkin out of its numbered ring. 

“ Hello, Tucker I ” “ Morning, Toby ! ” 

“ Greetings 1 ” “ Shove that sugar-bowl along 

this way, will you? ” 


92 


FIRST PRACTICE 


Arnold, however, only looked up briefly and 
nodded. Toby’s face fell. When one is ready to 
apologize and make up it is most disheartening to 
find that the other party isn’t ready! Evidently 
Arnold was nursing resentment, and Toby knew 
that as a nurse for that sort of thing Arn was hard 
to beat. But he pretended that he observed noth- 
ing different in his friend’s attitude and was quite 
chatty — for Toby. Will Curran, who had been 
severely lectured by his older brother for snob- 
bishness, showed a desire to make amends and was 
unusually attentive to Toby. By the time the 
table had filled up, which was only when the lei- 
surely Homer Wilkins had fallen wearily into the 
chair at Arnold’s left, Arnold had forgotten to 
look hurt and proud and was holding an animated 
discussion with Gladwin on the subject of hockey 
skates. Glad, as he was generally called, was 
firm for the half-hockey style and Arnold pinned 
his faith on the full. 

“ A straight blade is all right for racing,” de- 
clared Gladwin, “ but it’s too slow for hockey.” 

“ Too slow 1 ” exclaimed Arnold. “ How do 
you mean, too slow? You get more surface to 
the ice and — ” 


93 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ That’s all right when you’re skating, but when 
you want to turn quickly — ” 

“ Oh, shucks I Look here. Glad, you take a 
skate that’s got a round toe and how are you go- 
ing to start quickly? You can’t dig your toes in, 
can you? ” 

“ No, but you don’t have to. A fellow can 
start just as quick on the edge. A long, flat blade 
is — ” 

“ Oh, poppycock! You never saw a racer start 
on the edge. I’ll bet! Look at the Canadians. 
You don’t deny that they know more hockey than 
we do, do you? ” 

“ They did,” responded Glad cautiously, “ but 
we’re catching up with ’em nowadays. Any- 
way — ” 

“ Well, they know hockey, son, and they use a 
full-hockey skate every time! If that doesn’t 
prove it — ” 

“ I don’t think the Canadians play any better 
game than we do these days,” interrupted Glad. 
” And that doesn’t prove anything, anyway. Ca- 
nadians are more or less English, and you know 
mighty well that an Englishman uses the same 
skate to-day that his great-grandfather used, and 
94 


FIRST PRACTICE 


couldn’t be made to change. It — it’s all a mat- 
ter of custom with them ! ” 

“ Don’t be a silly ass, please,” begged Arnold. 
“ Any fellow who has seen a Canadian hockey 
team knows that they use a full-hockey skate, and 
a full-hockey skate wasn’t made until a few years 
ago, and so their grandfathers couldn’t have used 
them ! Why, you might just as well say that the 
best hockey skate is an old-fashioned ‘ rocker ’ ! ” 
“ There’s a lot of difference,” began Gladwin, 
but the audience told him to shut up and eat his 
breakfast, and Arnold was restored to his normal 
equanimity by the knowledge that he had won the 
debate. Consequently, when, a few minutes later, 
Toby met him in the corridor, Arnold had quite 
forgotten his grievance. 

“ Did you hear that line of piffle Glad pulled? ” 
he demanded. “ I’d like to see him make his 
quick starts on a pair of half-hockeys! I’ll bet I 
could beat him every time I ” 

“ Of course you could,” agreed Toby. “ Say, 
Arn, I — I’m sorry I was such a beast last night, 
you know.” 

“ What ? Oh I Say, what was the matter with 
you, you silly chump, anyway? ” 

95 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Nothing, really. I was sort of — sort of 
cranky, I guess.” 

“ Must have been,” agreed Arnold cheerfully. 
“ Had the hump, I suppose. How is it by you to- 
day ? ” 

“ Oh, Fm feeling great to-day. Let’s get out 
and tramp a little before first hour. Shall we? ” 

“ All right. Wait till I get a cap. Guess 
we’ll need sweaters, too.” 

“ I’ll have to run up and get mine and I’ll fetch 
yours on the way down.” Toby paused with the 
door half open. “ Say, Arn, it’s — it’s all right, 
isn’t it? About last night, I mean.” 

“ Of course it is, you chump I Get a move on. 
We’ve only got about twenty minutes.” 

At three o’clock in the afternoon of that fifth 
day of January the stretch of low ground near the 
river and south of the running track became the 
scene of remarkable activity. Fully half the 
school turned out, although not all, I regret to say, 
with the intention of being helpful. Perhaps fifty 
per cent, of the gathering was there to watch the 
other fifty per cent, work and to get as much 
amusement as possible out of the spectacle. Mr. 
Bendix, the Physical Director, better known as 
96 


FIRST PRACTICE 


“ Muscles,” was in charge of proceedings, assisted 
by Andy Ryan, the trainer. Corner pegs had al- 
ready been set when the boys arrived and the task 
of digging holes for the uprights to hold the 
boards in place was under way. Captain Crowell, 
acting as lieutenant, doled out shovels and picks 
and soon the necessary excavations were com- 
pleted. Fortunately, only the crust of the earth 
was frozen and once under that digging was easy. 
The joists were next lugged from their place of 
storage under the grand-stand and dropped into 
the holes and with one boy holding and two or 
three others shoveling, and Andy Ryan running 
around with a carpenter’s level to see that the 
joists were set straight, that part of the work went 
swiftly and would have gone more swiftly if the 
onlookers, being in a particularly happy frame of 
mind, had not stood around and cheered every 
move enthusiastically. 

Then a stream of fellows made for the back of 
the grand-stand again and returned bearing the 
planks, which, being in sections ready to attach to 
the uprights, required less labor than the pessi- 
mistic Creel had led Toby to anticipate. Each 
section was numbered and fell readily into place, 
97 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

after which a few long spikes completed the oper- 
ation. Toby, armed with a hammer and a bag of 
spikes, was one of the carpenters. Every time he 
missed the head of the spike a shout of derision 
arose from the attentive audience, and, in conse- 
quence, Toby was very likely to promptly miss 
again! But there were plenty of others to aid 
and before long the three-foot-high barrier was in 
place, enclosing a parallelogram of faded and 
trampled turf one hundred and thirty-two feet 
long by sixty feet wide. Before the last spike had 
been driven home the boys were busy with picks 
and shovels and a foot-high bank of earth was 
being thrown up against the bottom of boards on 
the outside. By the time the last shovelful had 
been tossed in place twilight was on them and 
the spectators had departed. The thermometer 
showed the mercury at twenty-eight degrees, but 
falling, and it was decided to put in enough water 
to only saturate the ground. Two lines of hose 
were coupled to the nearer hydrants and the en- 
closure was thoroughly wet down. That ended 
the labor for the time and some forty-odd boys, 
abandoning shovels and picks, viewed the result 
of their labor with proud satisfaction and tramped 
98 


FIRST PRACTICE 


somewhat wearily back to the dormitories. To 
Toby, at least, who had worked hard and unceas- 
ingly from first to last, the lighted windows up the 
hill looked very good. 

The thermometer was down to twenty in the 
morning and again the water was turned into the 
hydrants, the hose coupled and the frozen ground 
sprayed. This operation was repeated twice 
more during the day and when, in the late after- 
noon, Toby and Arnold walked down to the rink 
they found an inch of ice already formed. But 
it was not until the following afternoon that the 
rink was ready for use. The mercury was down 
to fourteen above zero at three o’clock and the 
final spraying at noon had supplied a surface as 
smooth and hard as glass. By a quarter past 
three four squads were at work, rushing and pass- 
ing and, it must be acknowledged, sprawling over 
the ice. Later two teams were picked by Cap- 
tain Crowell and the other fellows pulled their 
sweaters on again and lined the barrier and looked 
on. Most of the school was on hand, as well, and 
although there was no line-up that afternoon, they 
found plenty to divert them. 

Toby, of course, spent most of the practice time 

99 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


outside the barrier, but he profited not a little by 
watching the more fortunate fellows. Going 
back, he confided to Arnold that he was sure he 
would never be able to get around on skates the 
way those chaps did. Arnold, whose right to a 
place on the first team was generally recognized, 
had been hard at it and was feeling very perked 
up and cheerful and derided Toby’s doubts. 

You wait till you’ve had a few days of it,” he 
said. “ You’ll get the hang of it all right. 
There’s only one secret, Toby, and that is skate 
low. It helps you to keep your balance and makes 
it harder for the other fellow to body-check you. 
If you’re standing straight on your skates the least 
shove will throw you over, but if you’re skating 
low you can take a good hard check and keep your 
feet on the ice.” 

“ I see that,” said Toby. “ But you fellows 
dodge and jump around and turn so quickly! 
Why, I’d break my silly neck if I tried it! ” 

“ You’ll learn. Anyway, if you go in for goal, 
you won’t need to know so much about skating.” 

“ How much does a pair of skates like yours 
cost? ” asked Toby after a moment’s silence. 

“ I paid five, but you can get a good pair for 


lOO 


FIRST PRACTICE 


three and a half. Don’t buy any till you find out 
whether you’re going to play goal or not, though. 
If you play goal you’ll be better off with a pair of 
heavy skates with short blades. You can move a 
heap quicker in them.” 

“ And how much would they be ? ” 

“ Oh, three and a half, I guess. What’s the 
matter with wearing the ones you have? ” 

“Could I? They’re sort of old-fashioned. I 
only paid a dollar and a half for them, and I’ve 
had them about three years. 

“ Let’s see them,” said Arnold. They paused 
in the light from a lower window in Merle and 
Arnold looked them over. Finally he grunted 
and passed them back. “ I guess they wouldn’t 
do, Toby. They’d break in two if some one gave 
them a good swipe with a stick or skated into them. 
What you want to do is to get a pair of skating 
shoes and screw your skates right onto them. 
Those full clamp skates are always tearing your 
heel off.” 

“ How much would shoes cost? ” asked Toby. 

“ Five dollars. More if you want to pay it. 
But they’ll stand by you for two or three years.” 

“ Yes, but Crowell said we’d all have to have 


lOI 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


hockey gloves, and they’re frightfully expensive. 
And I might have to buy a pair of pads if I got 
to playing goal. I guess hockey’s a pretty expen- 
sive game, Arn.” 

“ Pshaw, pads don’t cost much; only about four 
dollars, I think. Fifteen dollars will buy every- 
thing you’ll need.” 

“Gee, that’s cheap, isn’t it?” muttered Toby 
disconsolately. “ I guess I’ll wait and see if 
there’s any show of making a team before I buy 
much.” 

Arnold laughed as they crossed the colonnade 
and turned toward the entrance to Whitson. 
“ You were always a cautious chap, Toby! ” 

“ I have to be,” replied the other simply. 

“I suppose you do. Look here!” Arnold 
stopped in the act of pushing open the door. 
“ I’ve got a pretty good pair of skates upstairs. 
They’ve got button heels, but I guess they’d be all 
right for you. If you want them you’re welcome. 
Come on up and I’ll dig them out.” 

They proved all right as to size, but, unfortu- 
nately, the heel-plates had been lost. Homer Wil- 
kins, who came in while they were bewailing this 
fact, suggested that they could get new plates by 


102 


FIRST PRACTICE 


sending to the maker, and they cheered up again. 
Toby bore the skates away with him to his room 
and, arrived there, studied that note-book again. 
Quite a few fellows had paid their accounts by 
now and so many of the entries had been scored 
out, but there was still nearly six dollars owing 
him. Most of the accounts were small, ranging 
from fifteen cents to thirty, but a few were larger 
and Frank Lamson’s was the biggest. Frank had 
promised to pay after vacation, but he hadn’t and 
Toby considered the advisability of reminding 
him of his promise. But Toby decided finally 
that he would rather lose the money than dun 
Frank for it any more. What he would do, 
though, was to spend an hour after supper trying 
to collect some of the other amounts due him. 
Having reached that decision, he started his gas 
stove, heated his iron and pressed two pairs of 
trousers and a coat and waistcoat before supper. 

Afterwards, he made the rounds of the dormi- 
tories before study hour and returned richer by 
two dollars and eighty cents. That amount, to- 
gether with four dollars and twenty-two cents 
which he had by him, he deposited in a little card- 
board box and hid under an extra pair of pajamas 
103 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


in a bureau drawer, after printing on the lid in 
ink: “ Hockey Fund.” 

Seven dollars would, he believed, buy a pair of 
pads and a pair of gloves, and now that Arnold 
had donated a perfectly corking pair of skates, he 
wouldn’t have to purchase shoes. He could put 
the heel-plates, when he got them, on the shoes he 
was wearing and use them for all purposes. He 
had a feeling that in expending seven dollars for 
hockey paraphernalia he was being downright ex- 
travagant, but he had earned the money and, he 
told himself defiantly, he had a right to be reckless 
with it for once. He didn’t entirely silence an ac- 
cusing conscience, but he reduced it to whispers I 

Toby had already become an enthusiastic 
hockey fan without as yet having taken part in a 
game! His efforts to make good as a football 
player had not been very successful, and he made 
up his mind that this time he would conquer. He 
had an ecstatic vision of one Toby Tucker, a blue- 
and-white stockinette cap on his head, wearing a 
white sweater with the crossed hockey sticks and 
the mystic letters Y. H. T. on it, his legs encased 
in white leather pads such as Henry, the first team 
goal tend, had worn that afternoon, armed with 
104 


FIRST PRACTICE 


a wide-bladed stick, crouching in front of the net 
while the cheers of Yardley and Broadwood thun- 
dered across the rink. The vision stopped there 
because, for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine 
what the heroic Toby Tucker would do if some 
brutal member of the enemy team tried to put the 
puck past him! But it was a fine and heart- 
warming picture, and Toby wanted terribly to see 
it realized, and it didn’t seem to him at such mo- 
ments that it would be right to let a small matter 
of seven dollars interfere with that realization. 
Besides, there was still the barest, tiniest chance 
of that scholarship 1 When Toby was feeling 
cheerful he recognized that chance. At other 
times he told himself that it didn’t exist. To- 
night, being optimistic, he allowed that perhaps, 
after all, he might win one of the smaller ones. 
If he did he would never regret the sinful waste of 
that seven dollars. Fifty dollars would make a 
lot of difference in his financial condition. How- 
ever, he wouM not, he reflected, get his hopes too 
high. It was much better not to expect anything. 
Then if he did win a Haynes Scholarship — 

Gee, he was getting all excited about it 1 That 
wouldn’t do, because it was very, very likely that 
105 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


he wouldn’t succeed. He pulled his books to him 
and settled himself, with a sigh, for an hour of 
study. Anyway, he thought, as he opened his al- 
gebra, he would know to-morrow, for to-morrow 
was the eighth and it was on the eighth, according 
to the school catalogue, that the awards were an- 
nounced. Of course, since there were only six 
scholarships for the fourth class and about one 
hundred students — Toby sighed again, shook 
his head and plunged into algebra. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 

A t Yardley you were supposed to get up at 
seven. Breakfast was at seven-thirty. 
You were allowed, however, a half- 
hour’s leeway. That is, you could gain admit- 
tance to commons as late as one minute to eight, 
but whether you found anything left to eat was 
quite another question. At half-past eight came 
chapel, and while you might with impunity miss 
breakfast occasionally, being absent from chapel 
constituted a dereliction resulting in a visit to the 
Office. Chapel was held in the assembly hall on 
the third floor of Oxford. There had been a 
time, when the founder and first Principal, Doctor 
Hewitt, had been alive, when chapel had occurred 
at half-past seven, but nowadays one fortified one- 
self with food before the morning services. 

On this Saturday morning Toby, who was so 
accustomed to early rising that it was a veritable 
hardship to lie in bed after seven, finished break- 
107 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

fast before eight and was out of the hall before 
Arnold appeared. Usually he waited for the lat- 
ter and they crossed to Oxford together; and 
sometimes Homer Wilkins, by Herculean effort, 
managed to go along. But this morning Arnold 
had not returned to his room when Toby clattered 
downstairs again. Nor was he anywhere in sight. 
So Toby set out for chapel alone. Probably Ar- 
nold would be waiting for him in the corridor in 
Oxford. It wasn’t a morning when one would 
linger around out of doors, for the mercury was 
hovering about zero and an icy wind was blowing 
across the Prospect, cracking the flag and bending 
the top of the tall mast. Toby dug his hands into 
his pockets and scurried. The bell began to ring 
as he reached the steps. Inside, a crowd of boys 
who had lingered till the last moment, surged 
toward the stairs, and Toby was caught up and 
borne along. As a consequence, he did not find 
Arnold, and when he was seated on one of the old 
knife-scarred benches he was hedged in between 
two fellows whom he only knew by sight. Doc- 
tor Collins, the Principal, stepped to the rostrum, 
silence descended over the room and the Doctor’s 
pleasant voice began the reading. 

io8 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 


‘ Hearken to me, ye that follow after right- 
eousness, ye that seek the Lord: look unto the 
rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the 
pit whence ye are digged.* ’* 

Toby, as he listened, glanced furtively around 
for sight of Arnold. He had wanted particularly 
to see him this morning and ask him when and 
where the scholarship announcements would be 
made. Toby presumed that a list would be posted 
on the notice board downstairs, but a hurried ex- 
amination of the board as he had been swept past 
had revealed nothing that looked as portentous. 
Probably the list would be posted later. Toby 
wondered if he would have the courage to read 
it 1 Meanwhile there was no sign of Arnold and 
Toby concluded that he had arrived late and 
slipped into a seat near the door. 

“ ‘ But I will put it into the hand of them that 
afflict thee; which have said to thy soul. Bow 
down, that we may go over: and thou hast laid 
thy body as the ground, and as the street, to them 
that went over.’ ** 

Dr. Collins ceased and closed the Bible. 
There was a moment’s pause and the subdued 
shuffling of feet and moving of bodies. Then 
109 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


came silence again and the invocation and, at the 
last, the Lord’s Prayer, the boys reciting together. 
Toby always liked to hear that. It sounded to 
him like the boom of the sea back home, and 
thrilled him. When heads were lifted once more, 
he became conscious of an undercurrent of ex- 
citement, of suspense. The hall was unusually 
still. The boy on his right, a thin, earnest-look- 
ing youth with a pair of eye-glasses set on the 
ridge of a long nose, sat up straighter and more 
tensely, and Toby thought he breathed faster than 
was natural. Toby didn’t recall the fellow’s 
name, but they had several recitations in common. 
In front of him two boys were whispering to- 
gether, but so softly that he could hear no sound. 
On the platform Doctor Collins wa: turning the 
papers in his hands, and, presently, having sorted 
them to his liking, he began the announcements. 
Three students were summoned to the Office; no- 
tice was given of a lecture on Stevenson next Tues- 
day evening at eight; a course in Bible History 
open to First and Second Class students would be- 
gin Monday; those desiring to join would give 
their names to Mr. Thurman; until further notice, 
the library would be kept open until ten o’clock at 


1 10 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 


night, in response to a number of requests. Doc- 
tor Collins laid these notices on the desk, cleared 
his throat and began again. Toby heard the boy 
on his right take a long breath. 

“ In assigning scholarships,’’ began Dr. Col- 
lins, “ the Faculty judges the merits of the appli- 
cants, as you doubtless know, on three grounds: 
scholarship, character and pecuniary need. At 
present the School has at its disposal twenty-six 
endowed scholarships, and for the current year 
they have been assigned as follows.” 

Toby’s heart was doing queer things between his 
stomach and his throat. He wondered if the oth- 
ers were as surprised as he. Then he realized 
that every one else had known the announcements 
would be made here and now; that the under-cur- 
rent of excitement of which he had been dimly 
aware had been due to that knowledge. He 
plunged his hands into his pockets and doubled his 
fists tightly. He, too, was breathing hard and 
fast now. His thoughts were horribly jumbled, 
and he wondered where Arnold was, wished he 
was here, was glad he wasn’t, told himself he had 
absolutely no chance for a scholarship, hoped fran- 
tically that he had, and all in the small fraction of 


1 1 1 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


time that lapsed while Doctor Collins settled his 
glasses more firmly. 

“ As your names are mentioned, you will kindly 
stand,” continued the Principal. “To members 
of the First Class: Barton Scholarships of one 
hundred and twenty-five dollars to William 
George Phinney, Clark’s Mills, Rhode Island; 
David Fearson Caldwell, New York City; Jasper 
Haynes, Plainfield, New Jersey; Patrick Dennis 
Conlon, Bridgeport, Connecticut. Sinclair Schol- 
arships of one hundred dollars to Phillip Studley 
Meyer, Belfast, Maine; William Patterson Byron, 
Newark, New Jersey. Elliot Percival Dwight 
Scholarships of eighty dollars to Howard Dana 
Jones, Englewood, Illinois; Horace Newcomb, 
Greenburg, Connecticut. The Yardley Hall 
Scholarship of sixty dollars to Newton Scott Mc- 
Donough, Wilmington, Delaware.” 

As each name was announced, somewhere in the 
hall an embarrassed youth arose and a salvo of 
clapping greeted him. Toby clapped as hard as 
any. It sort of took his mind off the question that 
was jumping around in his brain. The nine 
youths remained standing until the applause, long 
continued and hearty, died down. Then: 


II2 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 


** You may be seated,” said the Doctor. ** To 
members of the Second Class — ” Toby listened, 
but only half heard. When a boy stood up he 
clapped hard. When a laugh started and rippled 
around the hall, he laughed too, a trifle hysteri- 
cally, but didn’t know what at. The Second Class 
recipients sat down and the Doctor began on the 
Third Class awards. There wer€ but six of these. 
Toby only knew one of the fortunate fellows, 
Mark Flagg, who played point with the first 
hockey squad. The clapping went on and on. 
Toby wished one instant that it would cease and 
the next that it would continue. Then it died 
away, Doctor Collins nodded and the boys sank 
back gladly out of sight. Toby clenched his 
hands again, set his countenance in a vacuous stare 
and held his breath. 

“To members of the Fourth Class:” began 
the fateful voice. “ Ripley Scholarships of sixty 
dollars to Gordon Pitman Wells, Cincinnati, 
Ohio — ” 

At the far side of the assembly hall there was a 
scraping of feet. The clapping broke forth 
afresh. Toby didn’t join this time, nor did he 
look around. He was too busy keeping his eyes 

113 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


on the back of the head of the boy in front of him, 
and, besides, it is doubtful if he could have un- 
clenched his hands just then. 

“ — John Booth Garman, Fitchburg, Massachu- 
setts — ” 

The boy at Toby’s right got slowly to his feet. 
Toby stole a look at his face. He was rather red 
and very embarrassed and there was a little 
crooked smile twisting one side of his mouth. 
Toby’s gaze fell to Garman’s hand which hung by 
his side. The long fingers were doubling back 
and forth nervously. Toby felt for Garman, 
wanted to tell him he was glad. Then, the ap- 
plause lessening, he strained his ears again. Not 
that the crucial moment was yet, for he had no 
hopes of a Ripley now, nor much hope of any- 
thing. He wished it was all over ! Doctor Col- 
lins seized the moment’s calm: 

“ Tobias Tucker, Greenhaven, New York! ” 

Something inside of Toby turned a complete 
somersault. Perhaps it was his heart, but it 
didn’t feel like it. His gaze went startledly, in- 
credulously from the exact middle of the head in 
front of him to Doctor Collins’ face. Some one 
was shoving him from behind and a voice hissed 
114 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 


over his shoulder: Stand up, you chump!** 

Toby climbed dazedly to his feet. If it was a 
mistake, he told himself hollowly, he would feel 
like an awful fool! But there didn’t seem to be 
any mistake. Every one was clapping enthusias- 
tically and he saw, or seemed to see, about a mil- 
lion faces smiling at him. His thoughts, as he 
held onto the back of the bench in front, were 
horribly confused while the applause lasted. Af- 
ter that, when the Doctor announced the recip- 
ients of the three Haynes Scholarships, and the 
school’s attention was shifted from him, he found 
himself mentally deducting sixty from one hun- 
dred and twenty-five and arriving at the joyful if 
slightly erroneous result of sixty. Why, his tui- 
tion bill for the rest of the year would be only ten 
dollars I (Afterwards he found that it would be fif- 
teen, but he managed to survive the shock!) So 
busy was he dwelling on the beatitude of this 
thought that he didn’t see Doctor Collins nod nor 
observe the fact that the other five fellows had 
seated themselves again, and only became alive to 
his hideous conspicuousness when Carman tugged 
at his coat. He sank back onto the bench blush- 
ing, but still happy. 


115 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


After that there was a short congratulatory ad- 
dress by the Principal and then they all stood up 
again and sang a hymn. Or, at least, most of 
them sang. Toby didn’t. But then his heart 
was singing, and maybe that was enough. When 
the final note had died away Doctor Collins gave 
the word of dismissal and a quiet and orderly ex- 
odus began which turned, outside the doors, into a 
stampede. Toby, however, went slowly, the bet- 
ter to enjoy his pleasant thoughts, until some one 
linked an arm in his and dragged him helter-skel- 
ter down the remaining flight. 

“ Hurray, T. Tucker I Didn’t I tell you you’d 
do it? It’s great, and I’m tickled to death, 
Toby! ” 

Of course it was Arnold, Arnold laughing 
and eager to show his delight by risking his neck 
in a final mad plunge down the crowded staircase. 
Toby brought up at the bottom breathless and 
shaken and leaned against the wall. “ Wh- 
where were you?” he gasped. “I looked all 
around for you.” 

“ I waited for Homer and we were late and just 
got in by the skin of our teeth. Didn’t you see 
me waving to you when you stood up ? Gee, but 
ii6 


THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS 


Fm glad you got a Ripley, Toby. I was afraid 
It might be only a Haynes.” 

“ I was afraid It might be only nothing,” 
laughed Toby. “ I was so surprised when Doc 
said my name that I guess Fd be sitting there yet 
If some fellow hadn’t shoved me and told me to 
stand up ! I don’t see now how I happened to do 
It. I made an awful mess of math for a while, 
and then In November I had trouble with Coby 
about Latin. I don’t see — ” 

“ Oh, never mind what you don’t see,” Inter- 
rupted Arnold gayly. “ You got It. That’s 
enough, Isn’t It? Come on over and chin 
awhile.” 

“ What time Is It? I can’t. I’ve got English 
at nine. But, gee, I won’t know a thing, I 
guess! ” 

“ All right, then, I’ll see you at eleven. Fm aw- 
fully glad, Toby. You deserved it, too. Every 
one says that. Lots of fellows were as pleased 
as anything when Doc announced your name. I 
guess you got as much clapping as any of them 1 ” 

“ Did I? ” asked Toby In surprise. “ Why, I 
didn’t suppose many fellows knew anything about 
me I I guess — I guess you’re just jollying! ” 
117 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“Honest, Fm not! Lots of fellows around 
where I was sitting nearly clapped their old hands 
off for you, and four or five said afterwards that 
they were mighty glad you’d copped it. So long! 
Come up to the room at eleven, eh? ” 

Toby nodded and turned back toward the en- 
trance to Oxford. It seemed strange, even in- 
credible, that any one should have cared whether 
he won that scholarship. But it was mighty nice. 
It made things even better. He hadn’t supposed 
that he had any friends in school beside Arnold 
and, perhaps, a couple of chaps in his own class 
who had been more or less chummy at times. 
Well, he would just have to show them and Doc- 
tor Collins and — and every one that he really de- 
served it. He would study as hard as anything 
and maybe — well, it was only a chance, but 
mayhCj he’d finish in June an Honor Man! Ra- 
ther a stupendous dream, that, but Toby was feel- 
ing stupendous this morning ! 


CHAPTER IX 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 

T oby set himself earnestly to learn hockey. 
I’m not going to tell you that after a week 
of sliding and whanging around with the 
third or fourth squad he displayed such a marvel- 
ous ability that Yardley Hall was amazed and de- 
lighted at the advent of a new star, or that Orson 
Crowell, bowing his head in surrender, offered him 
the captaincy. Such a thing may happen some- 
times, although it is usually in stories, but it didn’t 
happen in Toby’s case. No, sir, not by a lot! 
Toby began by being just about as awkward and 
useless as any one could be. For the first day or 
two he evidently believed that a hockey stick was 
meant to trip over, and when he did use it for 
other purposes, he wielded it like a baseball bat. 
However, after he had cut Fanning’s forehead 
open with one of his wild swings, and been sternly 
reminded for the tenth time that the rules forbade 
lifting the stick above the shoulder, he handled it 
119 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


more discreetly. Loring Casement, who was 
slated for the second team captaincy, had charge 
of the third and fourth squads, and Loring made 
the mistake of sizing up Toby as a possible for- 
ward, and for the better part of a week, in fact 
until the Monday following the game with St. 
John’s School, he was allowed to dash wildly and 
more or less confusedly about the ice to his own 
vast enjoyment and the entertainment of the spec- 
tators. Toby’s method of advancing the puck 
was to get a good start, stumble over his stick, 
slide a few yards, scramble to his feet again and 
hurl himself on the nearest adversary, whether 
said adversary happened to have possession of the 
puck at the moment or not. We are told that a 
rhinoceros, being wounded, will charge at the first 
object he sees, whether it is a man or a tree or an 
ant-hill. These were Toby’s tactics. The first 
person who met his eyes was his prey. It took 
Toby several experiences to connect his thunder- 
bolt charges with the blowing of the referee’s 
whistle and the cessation of play. But eventually, 
after Casement had almost tearfully reiterated 
that the rules prohibited the checking of a player 
not in possession of the puck, Toby saw his error. 


120 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 


Possibly he would have developed after awhile 
Into a fair sort of center or wing, although all in- 
dications were against that supposition, but he 
wasn’t given the chance. On that Monday before 
mentioned Captain Crowell advised Casement to 
try Toby at defense, and so Toby suddenly found 
himself at point. 

Playing point is vastly different from scurrying 
up and down as a forward, as Toby discovered. 
When you played point you did a lot of waiting 
and watching, and when you did have anything to 
do you had a whole lot ! It was rather a breath- 
less moment for him when, for the first time, he 
set himself In the path of the invaders. It almost 
made him dizzy trying to keep his eyes on the puck, 
which was slipping from one onrushing forward to 
another, and when he did check he got the wrong 
man and the puck was in the net by the time he 
had scrambled to his feet again. The goal tend 
viewed Toby disgustedly and muttered uncompli- 
mentary things. But Toby showed up better on 
defense than attack, soon got a glimmering of 
what was expected of him and, whatever his faults 
may have been, never exhibited any lack of enthu- 
siasm. The heel-plates had so far failed to ar- 


I2I 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


rive — they did come eventually, but not yet — 
and so Toby had to wear his old skates. They 
were forever coming loose and causing him trou- 
ble and delaying the game. His team-mates 
begged him to “ scrap ’em, Tucker, and buy some 
skates.” 

Toby discovered very early in his experience 
that hockey required mental as well as physical 
abilities. Quick thinking and cool thinking were, 
he decided, prime requisites. Watching Orson 
Crowell or Arnold or Jim Rose, all seasoned play- 
ers, zig-zag in and out between eager opponents, 
feinting, dodging, but keeping the puck all the 
while, was quite a wonderful sight. He had 
thought so before he had tried it himself. After 
he had tried it he was just about ten times as sure 
of it. Where Toby made his error at first was in 
mistaking calculating science for headlong reck- 
lessness. When Crowell, as an example, skated 
into a melee and brought the puck out, Crowell 
knew beforehand what he was going to do and 
how he was going to do it. When Toby tried it 
he merely flung himself into the maelstrom with- 
out having any distinct idea of what was going to 
happen ; except, of course, that he knew he was go- 


122 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 


ing to get his shins cracked or dent the ice with 
some prominent angle of his anatomy. After 
awhile Toby decided that there was a difference 
between daring and mere recklessness, and he con- 
cluded that he would skate more with his head 
and less with his feet I 

Several things came hard to him. For a long 
time he could not learn to use both hands on his 
stick, and the exhortation from Casement: 

Both hands. Tucker, both hands ! ” followed him 
everywhere. When he did get the hang of it, 
though, he found that he was far better off, if only 
for the reason that the stick was always in front of 
him and never getting mixed up with his skates. 
But besides that he discovered that it aided him a 
lot in keeping his balance and when dodging. 
And it was always ready for use, something that 
couldn’t be said for a trailing stick. Another 
thing that was difficult for him to master was drib- 
bling instead of hitting the puck. Toby’s ball 
playing had left him with a natural inclination to 
use anything in the nature of a stick or club with 
a swing, and merely pushing the little hard-rub- 
ber disk along the ice seemed too slow. But after 
he had lost the puck innumerable times by striking 
123 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


it he understood the philosophy of dribbling. If 
Toby was slow to learn, at least, having learned, 
he remembered. 

The ambition to own his own stick took posses- 
sion of him before long, and one afternoon he and 
Arnold and Homer Wilkins walked over to Green- 
burg and had a regular splurge of spending. To 
be sure, it was Arnold and Homer who left the 
most money behind, but Toby spent a whole half- 
dollar for the best hockey stick he could find and 
fifteen cents more for hot sodas. Selecting that 
stick was a long and serious matter. Toby left it 
largely to Arnold, and Arnold, sensible of the 
honor done him, was not to be hurried. 

“ You want a Canadian rock elm stick,” he de- 
clared gravely. “ Rock elm won’t fray on the 
edge the way other sticks will. Take rough ice 
and your stick will have whiskers all along the bot- 
tom of the blade if it isn’t made of the right stuff. 
And you want to choose one that’s got a close, 
straight grain, too. The grain ought to run per- 
fectly straight with the haft and turn with the 
blade. Here’s one — No, it’s got a knot in it. 
See it? A good whack with another stick would 
break that there as sure as shooting.” 

124 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 


“ How’s this one? ” asked Toby. 

“ Too heavy, son. It isn’t seasoned, I guess. 
If you get one that isn’t dried and seasoned per- 
fectly it’ll warp on you, and — ” 

“ I’d hate to have a hockey stick warp on me,” 
murmured Homer distastefully. “ Still, I sup- 
pose I could take it off, eh? ” 

‘‘ I guess this is the best of the lot,” continued 
Arnold, too much absorbed to heed levity. “ It’s 
got a medium wide blade, with a knife edge; not 
too sharp, though, either. How do you like it? 
Feelgood?” 

Toby hefted it doubtfully. “ I think so. 
Only I thought maybe I’d rather have one with 
a narrower thingamabob.” 

“ Narrower blade ? But that’s a forward stick, 
T. Tucker. You want a stick for defense, don’t 
you? You can use this one at point or goal, 
either one. Those narrow blades won’t stop a 
puck the way the wide ones will. And it’s light, 
too, and has a peachy grain. I’ve got some tape 
you can have, so you needn’t buy any.” 

So the matter was eventually settled, and the 
salesman, who had long since wearied of standing 
by, returned and accepted Toby’s fifty-cent piece 
125 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and offered to wrap the stick up. But Toby pre- 
ferred to carry it unwrapped so that he could ex- 
amine the grain and swing it speculatively and ad- 
mire it to his heart’s content. After that Arnold 
bought a bottle of glue, half a dozen pencils, a 
pair of garters and three bananas, and Homer 
purchased a red-and-green necktie which attracted 
his attention away across the street and a book 
with a splashy cover entitled “ Dick Dareall in 
the Frozen Seas.” 

“That doesn’t sound like sense,” objected Ar- 
nold when they were outside again. “ If he was 
in the frozen seas he’d be stuck tight, wouldn’t 
he?” 

“ Maybe he was,” said Homer. “ Or maybe 
I’m the one who’s stuck.” 

“ That sounds fair,” agreed Arnold. “ Say, 
he must have had a fine time playing hockey, eh ? 
I guess those frozen seas would make a dandy 
rink? ” 

They induced Homer to unwrap his necktie for 
their re-examination, and Arnold pretended to be 
frightened and dashed wildly into the street and 
was almost run over by an express truck. Toby 
secretly admired that vivid tie very much and 
ia6 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 

wanted one just like it, but it was more fun pre- 
tending that it made him feel squirmy and faint. 
Homer wasn’t in the least disturbed by their crit- 
icisms, however. 

“ It’s just envy,” he said tranquilly. “ You’d 
both mighty well like to have it. Besides, it has 
the green of old Broadwood, and you know how I 
love the dear old school.” 

As usual, they found a sprinkling of Broadwood 
boys in the drug store when Toby stood his mod- 
est treat. They were really quite nice looking 
chaps, but Homer insisted that they showed every 
indication of degeneracy. ‘‘ Observe the sloping 
foreheads,” he whispered, “ and the weak chins. 
Also the vacant expression of the eyes. Still, 
these aren’t so bad, really. They only let the best 
looking ones out.” 

“ I know,” replied Arnold gravely. “ They 
tell me,” he went on, raising his voice, “ that 
they’re starting post-graduate courses at Broad- 
wood.” 

“ That so? ” inquired Homer, in the encourag- 
ing tone of an interlocutor in a minstrel show. 

“Yes,” drawled Arnold. “They’re going to 
teach reading and writing to the advanced stu- 
127 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


dents, I understand. And I believe there is even 
some talk of a course in elementary arithmetic, 
but that may be an exaggeration.” 

“ My word! Well, Broadwood’s an awful up- 
and-coming place I I have heard that they were 
going to introduce football — ” 

“Aw, cut it!” interrupted a disgusted voice 
from behind Toby. “ That’s old stuff ! ” 

“ Is it? ” asked Arnold, innocently regarding 
the scowling countenance showing around Toby’s 
shoulder. “ We just heard of it. Much 
obliged.” 

“ Fresh snips,” growled another Broadwood 
youth. “ I didn’t know they let their juniors 
come to town.” 

“ What’s yours, gentlemen? ” inquired the at- 
tendant behind the counter. 

“ Three hot sodas, please,” began Toby. But 
Homer interrupted, with a wink. 

“ We’ll take three Broadwood punches, 
please.” 

“ I don’t know those,” said the clerk, smiling 
doubtfully. “ Spring it.” 

“ There ain’t no such thing,” answered Homer. 

“ Give him the regular Yardley drink,” advised 
128 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 


a hostile voice from further along the counter. 
“ Just fill a glass with hot air.” 

Toby was beginning to wonder when the trou- 
ble would start, but at the sound of the last voice 
Arnold leaned forward with a grin and, “ Hello, 
Tony! ” he called. “ How’s the boy? ” 

“ Hello, Arn ! That you shooting your silly 
mouth off? Come down here and have some- 
thing.” 

“ Can’t, thanks. How’s everything back In the 
hills? ” But Tony was making his way to them 
and an instant later Toby and Homer were being 
introduced to “ Mr. Spaulding, the world-famous 
athlete.” Tony Spaulding proved to be a fine- 
looking fellow of seventeen or eighteen with a re- 
markable breadth of shoulders and a pair of snap- 
ping black eyes. Four other Broadwood boys 
were haled forward and introduced, and presently, 
armed with glasses, they crowded around a dimin- 
utive table in the rear of the store and hobnobbed! 
very socially. Toby gathered during the course 
of the ensuing conversation that Tony Spaulding 
was the identical left tacHe who had caused so 
much trouble to Yardley last November, although 
Toby would never have recognized him in his pres- 
129 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


ent apparel. It also appeared that Mr. Spauld- 
ing was a prominent member of the Broadwood 
hockey squad and that he was looking forward 
with much glee to meeting Arnold on the ice a 
month or so later. Another member of the 
Broadwood contingent was dragged into the lime- 
light with the remark: “Towle, here, is going 
to play goal for us this year, Arn. Johnny, you 
want to watch out for this shark, Deering, when 
we play ’em. If you see him coming, spread your- 
self, boy, spread yourself I And maybe you’d bet- 
ter yell for help, too ! ” 

It was almost dark when they tore themselves 
away from their friends, the enemy, and set out 
for home, and quite dark by the time they climbed 
the hill and reached the radiance of the lighted 
windows, Toby bearing his new hockey stick with 
tender solicitude lest its immaculate surface be 
scratched and Homer regretting the fact that he 
had intended buying some peanut taffy and had 
forgotten it. 

That was the afternoon preceding the game 
with St. Johns, and it wasn’t until the next morn- 
ing that it became certain that the game could be 
played. But a sharp fall in temperature during 
130 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 

the early hours set the ice again and by three 
o’clock it was in fairly good shape. That game 
wasn’t very exciting, for St. John’s showed a woe- 
ful lack of practice and Yardley ran away with 
the event in the first half and only supplied a spice 
of interest in the last period by throwing an entire 
team of substitutes in. Toby, with many a better 
player, watched the contest from the bench out- 
side the barrier, sweatered and coated against the 
cold of the afternoon but ready at any moment to 
throw wraps aside and leap, like Mr. Homer’s 
Achilles, full-panoplied into the fray. Still Toby 
didn’t really expect to be called on to save the day, 
and he wasn’t. Flagg and Framer played point 
and played it quite well enough. Frank Lamson 
took Henry’s place at goal in the second period 
and it was against Frank that St. John’s was able 
to make its only two tallies. The first team for- 
wards, Crowell, Crumbie, Rose and Deering, 
showed some fine team work that afternoon and 
won frequent applause, but, as Sid Creel said to 
Toby, most any one could have got past those St. 
John’s fellows. Halliday showed himself a really 
remarkable cover point, and he and Flagg worked 
together like two cog-wheels. The final score was 

131 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


12 to 2 , and it was very generally agreed that Cap- 
tain Crowell had material for a fine team and 
that Yardley had made a good start on her way to 
the championship. 

After the contest was over, willing hands swept 
the ice surface and the third and fourth squads 
staged a battle which, if not quite so skillful, had 
it all over the big show for excitement and sus- 
pense. As Sim Warren, who had been playing 
goal for the fourth squad, was not on hand, Still- 
well, presiding in the absence of Loring Casement, 
looked about for some one to take his place. 
Stillwell had little data to work on and so solved 
the problem by moving the cover point to point 
and the point back to the net, and filling the va- 
cant defense position with a substitute forward. 
Toby’s emotion at finding himself in charge of the 
fourth squad’s goal was principally that of alarm. 
Ever since Crowell’s remark to the effect that in 
his estimation Toby might make a good goal-tend, 
Toby had secretly longed to play that position, but 
this was so — well, so sort of sudden! He had 
watched Henry preside at the net time and time 
again, watched admiringly and enviously, and the- 
oretically at least knew the duties of the office, but 
132 


T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL 


he was possessed by grave doubts of his ability to 
profit by his observations. However, he had no 
choice in the matter. Some one helped him strap 
on a pair of pads, some one else thrust a wide- 
bladed goal-tender’s stick into his hands and thir- 
teen youths awaited his pleasure with ill-concealed 
impatience. Then Stillwell blew his whistle, 
dropped the puck and skated aside, and the battle 
was on. 

There was nothing especially momentous about 
that half-hour’s practice of the scrubs. They hus- 
tled around and banged away and got very excited 
and were off-side every two minutes. And now 
and then they managed to give a fair imitation of 
team-work. Stillwell, who would have much pre- 
ferred being up in the gymnasium talking over the 
afternoon’s game, went through with his task con- 
scientiously enough, but he was chary with the 
whistle and many a foul went unpenalized. Of 
course, Toby let several shots get past him, espe- 
cially in the first fifteen-minute half, when he was 
decidedly nervous every time the play approached 
his end of the rink. Later, he settled down and 
made one or two clever stops, one with his wrist. 
The latter was unintentional and deprived him of 

133 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the use of that member for several minutes. But 
his team-mates applauded and so Toby didn’t 
mind. And after awhile the wrist stopped hurt- 
ing some. On the whole, Toby put up a pretty 
fair game at goal that afternoon, doing better 
than the opposing goal-keeper by four tallies, a 
fact which Stillwell noted and later mentioned cas- 
ually to Crowell. 

Young Tucker played goal down there this af- 
ternoon,” he remarked. “ Warren was off and I 
didn’t know who else to put in. He wasn’t half 
bad, Orson.” 

“ Tucker? Oh, is that so? That reminds me 
that I meant to have Loring try him out at that 
very position. Glad you mentioned it. I’ll have 
a look at him. Lamson let two mighty easy ones 
get by to-day, and we could use another goal-tend 
if we had him.” 

Which conversation would have been remarka- 
bly cheering to Toby could he have overheard it 
at the moment. But he didn’t. What he did 
hear just then was Arnold telling him to “ Hold 
still, you chump ! I know it hurts, but this is good 
for it.” Whereupon Arnold rubbed the injured 
wrist harder and Toby grinned stoically. 

134 


CHAPTER X 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 

T he second team was made up the follow- 
ing Thursday with Grover Beech in 
charge as captain. Toby and Warren 
were retained as goal-tends and ten other youths, 
among them Sid Creel, made up the squad. The 
first team squad was cut that same day to fifteen, 
and about a dozen unsuccessful aspirants departed 
to private life, or, in some cases, to seek glory on 
their class teams. Toby was delighted with his 
good fortune and turned all his thought and en- 
deavors to the task of making himself first-choice 
for the position. To that end, he read every 
scrap of information he could find on the subject 
of a goal-tend’s duties, ransacking the school li- 
brary and borrowing wherever he heard of a book 
that promised information. But it was surprising 
what a lot of perfectly good authors had failed to 
deal with this absorbing subject. Why, you could 
drag your finger over card after card in the library 

135 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


index without finding a thing worth reading! 
Scott, Thackeray, Lytton, Dickens, Boswell, Ste- 
venson — not a work of advice as to how to play 
goal on a hockey team! Still, Toby did manage 
to discover a fair amount of hockey literature, and 
he read it all avidly and, could the position of first 
team goal-tend have been awarded by a competi- 
tive exarrtination, either oral or written, Toby 
would have won hands-down! When he had as- 
similated all the information he had read he took 
a blue-book and wrote down what was practically 
a summary of it. That was Toby’s scheme for 
registering indelibly on his brain anything that he 
wanted particularly to remember. And it was a 
very excellent scheme, too. Perhaps Toby’s sum- 
mary may be of interest to you. It will if you 
play hockey or expect to play it, and especially if 
your ambition looks toward the position of goal- 
tend. Anyway, here it is, just as he wrote it. 

“ The goal-tend’s position is probably the most 
responsible of all. If he fails the opponents 
score, but if another of his team fails the oppo- 
nent only wins an advantage which may not result 
in a score. A goal-tender should be cool-headed, 
plucky and very quick. Quickness is very impor- 
136 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 

tant. He should be quick to see a shot coming, to 
judge where it is coming and to put himself into 
position to stop it. A goal-tender need not be 
much of a skater or stick-handler, if he has those 
other qualifications. 

“ The goal-tend must guard a space six feet 
long by four feet high and so it will not do for 
him to stay in one position all the time. If the 
play is in front of the net he should stand in the 
middle of the net, but if the play is at one side 
he should stand at that side of the net and steady 
his knee against the goal-post. The rules forbid 
kneeling or lying on the ice and so if the puck is 
near the goal he should assume a crouching pos- 
ture, thus bringing as much of himself as possible 
near the ice. The larger a goal-tend is the less 
space he has to look after, because a shot is more 
likely to hit a fat fellow than a skinny one. He 
should wear leg-guards that come well above the 
knees and the bigger they are the better it is, be- 
cause by bringing his legs together he can then 
present a considerable surface in case of a low 
shot. He should also have his shoulders, thighs 
and elbows padded, both to protect him from in- 
jury and to increase his size. 

137 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ He ought not to use his stick to stop a shot 
with, unless the puck is coming to him on the ice 
and slowly. He should try to put his body in 
front of the puck or catch it with his hand. The 
hardest shot to stop is one which is about knee- 
high. The goal-tend should watch the puck every 
minute. He must never leave his goal unless he 
is sure that he can reach the puck before any player 
of the opposing team can reach it and there is no 
player on his own side to do it. When he has 
stopped the puck he should sweep it aside and be- 
hind his goal if possible, but never shoot it ahead 
of him because a player of the other team might 
get it and shoot it before he was in position to 
stop it. When the puck is behind the goal he 
should never take his eyes off of it and when it ap- 
proaches one side of the goal he should stand at 
that side and be ready in case a player tries to 
hook it in. If there is a scrimmage in front of 
the goal he should turn his skates out wide and 
keep his stick on the ice also. In that way he can 
cover about twenty-four inches of the goal. But 
if the puck comes toward him at either side he 
must be ready to stop it with a skate or his stick. 

“ Goal-tend should be warmly dressed because 

138 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 


he does not get so much exercise as the other play- 
ers. Moleskin trousers are better than khaki or 
cotton because warmer. He should wear a light 
sweater and have well-padded gloves. A goal- 
tend’s stick should be short with a broad blade. 
Some players prefer a built-up stick, but it must 
not be more than three inches wide at any place.” 

But memorizing all this didn’t make Toby a 
wonderful goal-tend. It doubtless helped him, 
but it is one thing to know what to do and quite 
another thing to do it. Probably a week of prac- 
tice was worth fully as much as all his reading. 
On the other hand, it is possible that his reading 
made it easier for him to understand what was 
wanted of him and to profit by criticism. Grover 
Beech, the second team captain, was not a very 
good instructor. He played a good game himself 
at cover point and knew how the other positions 
should be played, but he lacked the ability to im- 
part information. Rather impatient and short- 
tempered, he was far more likely to send a player 
who had performed poorly off the ice and summon 
a substitute than attempt to show the offender how 
to do better. In consequence, Toby, to a great 
extent, was thrown on his own resources when it 

139 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


came to learning the science of the goal-tend’s po- 
sition. But he watched the first team goals and 
tried to fashion his play on theirs, seldom of- 
fended twice in the same way and, when he had 
been two weeks a member of the second squad, 
had defeated Warren in the struggle for su- 
premacy. 

So far he had not dug into his hockey fund ex- 
cept to the extent of the price of his new stick. 
He wore an old pair of running trunks loaned by 
Homer Wilkins, a sweater of his own, a pair of 
ordinary thick gloves of buckskin, and, for want of 
a toque such as the others wore, went bare-headed. 
Arnold’s second-best skates performed all he 
asked of them and an ancient pair of leg-guards, 
inherited by the Hockey Club from some former 
player, answered their purpose fairly well. He 
meant, however, to have his own guards and a 
good pair of gloves, and, now that it seemed cer- 
tain that he had won the right to play the goal po- 
sition on the second for the balance of the season, 
he only awaited an opportunity to journey to 
Greenburg to purchase them. But on most morn- 
ings recitations kept him busy and every afternoon 
was occupied with practice, and so it was the 
140 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 


Thursday of Yardley’s third contest that the op- 
portunity at last occurred. But before that other 
events of interest had happened. 

There was, for example, the hockey game with 
Carrel’s School, the second contest on the Yard- 
ley schedule. Carrel’s presented a strong and ex- 
perienced seven, of which two members were past- 
masters in the gentle art of shooting goals from 
all sorts of impossible angles. Dave Henry, the 
Blue’s goal-tend, was considered rather a compe- 
tent youth, but that Saturday afternoon he had his 
hands full, so full, in fact, that he couldn’t begin to 
hold all that came to them, with the result that 
Carrel’s School led six goals to one at the end of 
the first twenty-minute period and in the last half, 
in spite of Yardley’s frantic, determined endeav- 
ors to hold her at bay and score a few tallies her- 
self, quite swept the Blue’s defense off its feet and 
scored pretty much as she wanted to. It was a 
rattling good game, in spite of its one-sidedness 
and the audience which lined the barrier, stamping 
its feet and blowing on its numbed fingers, yelled 
itself quite hoarse before the referee’s whistle blew 
for the last time. Seventeen to four was the score 
then, and although the Yardley players gathered 
141 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


together and waved their sticks and cheered tiredly 
for their rivals, there was a noticeable lack of en- 
thusiasm in that cheer. The wiseacres had to go 
back three years before they could find another 
such overwhelming defeat. Captain Crowell 
took the beating somewhat to heart, and even Ar- 
nold, who was not easily cast-down, moped all the 
evening and refused to be comforted by Homer 
or Toby or any one else. 

On the following Monday Framer took Flagg’s 
place at point and Rose gave way to Fanning at 
left wing. Also Crowell experimented with the 
four-man defense style of play, which, while not 
so good for scoring, at least is theoretically a fine 
style to keep your goal inviolate. Crumbie was 
played back with Halliday on defense, leaving 
only three men to meet the opposing attack until 
it was well down toward the goal. The second 
team was summoned onto the ice “ to be the 
goat,” as Sid Creel phrased it, and there was a 
very pretty struggle. The second swept through 
that four-man defense for three goals in each pe- 
riod, causing Captain Crowell grave doubts as to 
the value of it. But the first won, for neither 
Warren, who played through the first period, or 
142 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 


Toby, who officiated in the second, could stop more 
than half the shots of the first team forwards. 
Sid Creel, slow-moving and apparently sleepy, 
was a tower of strength at point that afternoon, 
and Beech was as clever as usual at cover, but 
Crowell and Arnold Deering were slippery skat- 
ers and accurate shots, and the illusive puck went 
into the second’s net nine times in all. 

The next day the four-man back idea worked 
better, Crumbie having by then a better knowledge 
of his duties on defense and refusing to be drawn 
out of position. Beech sought to meet the first 
team’s new tactics by adapting the Canadian 
scheme of playing three forwards abreast and the 
fourth behind. Beech selected the part of rover, 
but it can’t be said that he made a shining success 
of it. In any event, the first regained its old su- 
periority over the scrub seven and won easily. 
And, with a few exceptions, every following day 
witnessed a similar result until, near the middle 
of the season, one Toby Tucker willed otherwise. 

Greenburg High School followed Carrel’s and 
met overwhelming defeat at the hands of the Blue. 
But Greenburg was inexperienced and her players 
were poor skaters and the result had been ex- 
143 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

pected. The only incident meriting mention was 
a fine goal by Arnold Deering in the second period. 
Arnold had stolen the puck from a Greenburg 
player in front of his own goal, had evaded the 
forwards, passed to Crowell near the middle of 
the ice and had then received the puck back again 
when the Greenburg cover point had challenged. 
The pass, however, had gone behind him and he 
had had to turn and take it as it carromed off the 
boards. He was not then in position to shoot and 
so, after breaking past a member of the enemy 
team, he skated in, seeking a chance to pass back 
to Crowell. Crowell shouted and Arnold slid the 
puck along the ice, but at that moment a Green- 
burg youth charged into Crowell and the puck 
dribbled by. Fanning should have rescued it, but 
Fanning was far over at the other side and skating 
hard, and the Greenburg cover point was the lucky 
one. But the cover point hesitated just an instant 
too long and Arnold, doubling back, swept past 
him, stole the disc from under his nose, dodged 
two opponents and bore down on the Greenburg 
point. Crowell, who had sprawled on the ice, 
tried to get into position for the pass, but was too 
late, and Arnold, sensing it, dodged the point, 
144 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 


keeping the puck away from the latter’s swinging 
stick by a veritable miracle, circled the net at the 
rear and then, as he headed back close to the goal, 
slipped the puck deftly between the post and the 
goal-tend’s skate. As he did so two of the enemy 
crashed into him, the net careened, the goal- 
tend sat down on the ice and in an instant the air 
was full of kicking legs and thrashing sticks. But 
the puck had gone in before the upset and the goal 
umpire’s hand had already been raised when he 
was forced to flee from the careening net. 

Greenburg protested somewhat perfunctorily 
and the audience cheered. And Arnold was 
hauled out of the melee with a two-inch gash 
over his left eye that put him out of the contest 
and gave him a desperate, piratical look for 
several days. 

Of course, viewed from the standpoint of per- 
fect hockey, Arnold’s exploit was nothing to 
cheer for. When a wing player has to skate all 
over the shop and finally hook the puck in from 
back of goal he naturally suggests to the unbiased 
mind that there was a lamentable absence of team- 
play; which there was. Captain Crowell knew 
better than to praise that performance. Instead, 

145 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


he told Arnold that it was good skating, blamed 
himself for letting the cover point upset him and 
waded into Fanning for being out of position. 
But the audience liked it immensely and for some 
days Arnold’s exploit was the subject of enthusias- 
tic praise. 

I forgot to say that the score of the Yardley- 
Greenburg High game was i6 to 3. Not that it 
matters greatly, however. 

You are not to suppose that Toby spent all his 
time and thought on the enticing game of hockey. 
On the contrary, Toby was putting in some good 
licks at studying about this time. For one thing, 
he felt in honor bound to vindicate the faculty’s 
selection of T. Tucker as a recipient of a Ripley 
Scholarship, and for another thing mid-year exam- 
inations were on. “ Mid-years ” are serious 
things, and it behooves a chap to buckle down and 
get himself up on his studies, and especially those 
studies which, all during the Fall Term, he has sort 
of squeezed through on. So Toby worked hard 
and burned much midnight oil — only it happened 
to be gas — and did excellently well in everything 
save Latin and not so very badly in that. Poor 
Homer Wilkins came several croppers and for a 
146 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 

time anticipated severing his connection with the 
school. But he managed by dint of many solemn 
promises and extraordinary application to weather 
the storm. Arnold, too, had his troubles, but 
they were not serious. Only two members of the 
first hockey team found themselves in hot water, 
Henry and Dunphy, and these were barred from 
playing until they had removed their conditions. 
There was said to be some doubt about Dunphy’s 
return to the team that season, but Henry’s ab- 
sence from the ice was believed to be a matter of 
only a fortnight. Orson Crowell accepted the 
matter philosophically. After all, things might 
have been worse. He recalled one occasion, in 
his third class year, when exactly six of a hockey 
squad of fifteen had been put on probation after 
mid-years. Remembering that, he concluded that 
the temporary loss of Henry and the possibly final 
loss of Dunphy were not worth worrying about. 
Frank Lamson took Henry’s place at the net and 
tried very hard to fill Henry’s shoes. He never 
succeeded, however, even though, the week after 
the Greenburg game, an old-boy and former 
hockey captain named Loring, patriotically re- 
sponded to the call for aid and put in five days of 

147 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


coaching, paying a great deal of attention to the 
goal-tend. But even Alfred Loring could not 
make a perfect net-man of Frank Lamson, al- 
though Frank did improve quite perceptibly, and 
it was thought advisable to draw on the second 
team for a substitute pending Henry’s release 
from probation, and the choice fell naturally on 
Toby, who, by that time had plainly shown his su- 
periority to Warren. 

And so, one cold and bleak Thursday after- 
noon, Toby found himself practicing with the 
first, sliding from one side to the other of the 
south goal while Stillwell and Gladwin and 
Casement and Rose rushed down upon him, pass- 
ing the puck from stick to stick, and finally 
whanged the disk at him. He didn’t make a very 
brilliant showing that afternoon, although he tried 
harder than he had ever tried, for the first team 
substitutes had unusual luck in lifting the puck and 
time after time it sped past him, knee-high, to nes- 
tle in the folds of the net. 

But his lack of success didn’t make him 
downcast, for he had formed a wonderful reso- 
lution. It was to play goal better than Frank, 
so that they would have to keep him on the 
148 


WITH THE FIRST TEAM 


first. I am afraid that the vision of Frank 
Lamson being relegated to the scrubs had some- 
thing to do with Toby’s cheerfulness. But then, 
Toby didn’t pretend to be fond of Frank, and he 
was quite human. 


CHAPTER XI 


TRADE FALLS OFF 

T he class hockey teams were hard at it by 
now, for the weather had settled down to 
a fine imitation of an old-fashioned win- 
ter. The baseball candidates and the track and 
field fellows were, perhaps, not over-enthusiastic 
about it, and those who played golf made deroga- 
tory remarks anent it, but some seventy boys who 
swung hockey sticks each afternoon asked nothing 
better. The river was frozen five inches deep 
and provided even better ice than the first team 
had on shore. Two rinks were established oppo- 
site the boat house and on those the four class 
teams skated and slashed and shouted every after- 
noon in preparation for the three or four games 
which would later decide the school championship. 
So far snow had been scarce, but what had fallen 
still lay, crusted and glittering. Indoors the track 
150 


TRADE FALLS OFF 


athletes were awaking from their hibernation and 
beginning the early drudgery that was to prepare 
them for outdoor work. Even baseball was 
talked, although indoor practice for that did not 
begin for another three weeks. January and Feb- 
ruary, for those who find no outdoor interests, are 
dull months at school, and Toby was very thank- 
ful that he had gone in for hockey. 

Business was none too good just now. It is 
hard to get one’s clothes soiled when snow covers 
the world or when one doesn’t get out of doors 
often. Of course one would suppose that weather 
or time of year would have no effect on the busi- 
ness of pressing trousers and coats, but it seemed 
to, and Toby’s trade was almost at a stand-still 
toward the beginning of February. When Tem- 
ple came around to solicit a reinsertion of Toby’s 
modest advertisement in The Scholiast^ the school 
monthly, Toby was of two minds, whether to with- 
draw his card or make it larger. In the end he 
decided to offer special prices for February, and 
Billy Temple, sitting on the edge of the bed, wrote 
out the advertisement. 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


CLOTHES CLEANED AND PRESSED 
Special Reductions for February 
Trousers Cleaned. 25 Cents Trousers Pressed 10 Cents 
Coats Cleaned .. .35 Cents Coats Pressed ...20 Cents 
Suits, including Waist- Suits Pressed ....35 Cents 
coats, Cleaned 60 Cents 

Overcoats in Proportion 
My Work Is Equal to the Best 
Give Me a Trial 

Get Your Wardrobe in Order Now for Spring 
T. TUCKER, 22 WHITSON HALL 

Lack of trade didn’t worry Toby as much as it 
would have had he not won that scholarship, 
but he was glad when, that same evening, young 
Lingard knocked apologetically and presented 
himself and four articles of apparel to be cleaned 
and pressed. There was the same suit that Toby 
had toilsomely freed from its adornment of green 
paint, and an extra pair of trousers. This time 
the suit was spattered with some red-brown stuff, 
the nature of which Tommy Lingard was at a loss, 
or pretended to be at a loss, to explain. Toby 
frowned over it and finally said it looked like iron 
rust, but Lingard expressed doubts. 

“ Well, I dare say it will come out,” said Toby. 
“ Most everything does except acid. Fellows 
152 


TRADE FALLS OFF 


ruin their things at chemistry and then wonder why 
I don’t get the spots out of them. Fll have these 
ready to-morrow evening. By the way, Lingard, 
you never paid me for the last job, you know.” 

“Didn’t I really?” The boy’s voice ex- 
pressed the greatest surprise, but Toby wasn’t 
fooled. “ H-how much was it?” 

“ Seventy-five,” answered Toby, referring to 
his memorandum book. 

“ I’m sorry, really.” Lingard searched his 
pockets and finally produced a crumpled dollar bill 
from some recess, and Toby tried to dig up a 
quarter in change. But sixteen cents was the best 
he could do, and he was on the point of suggest- 
ing that the quarter be applied on the new account 
when he remembered the hockey fund. He 
crossed to the bureau and pulled the little box 
from its concealment and abstracted two dimes 
and a nickel. Lingard was deeply interested in 
the gas-stove when Toby came back — Toby had 
just finished pressing a pair of his own trousers — 
and didn’t turn around until Toby spoke. 

“ Here you are, Lingard. Twenty-five cents. 
Much obliged. Will you come for these or shall 
1 leave them in your room? ” 

153 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ I’ll come and get them, thanks, Tucker. 
To-morrow evening, you said? ” 

“ Yes, any time after nine. Good-night.” 

Lingard went off and Toby, after draping the 
garments on a hanger, turned out his light and 
padded downstairs to see Arnold. It was against 
the rules to use any cleansing fluid in the buildings 
after dark and so Toby’s cleansing operations had 
to be done in the daytime. He found Arnold and 
Homer playing host to Fanning and Halliday. 
There was a box of biscuits open on the window- 
seat and Homer had fashioned a pitcherful of or- 
ange-colored liquid which the fellows were drink- 
ing from glasses and tooth-mugs. Homer kept 
an assortment of bottled fruit-juices and could be 
relied on to produce a sweet and sickening bever- 
age at a moment’s notice. Toby declined the 
mugful of “ Wilkins’ Orange Nectar ” offered 
him, but helped himself to the biscuits and made 
himself as comfortable as he could on Arnold’s 
bed. 

“ Don’t get the crumbs in there, for the love of 
lemons,” warned Arnold. “ I never could sleep 
comfortably on cracker crumbs.” 

Homer chuckled. “ Say, Arn, remember the 

154 


TRADE FALLS OFF 

time we filled Garfield’s bed with crackers? Gee, 
that was a riot! ” 

“ What was it? ” prompted Ted Halliday, hold- 
ing out his glass for more “ nectar.” 

“ Why, Garfield got fresh one time,” recounted 
Arnold, “ and came in here when we were out and 
pied the room. It was an awful mess when I 
got back. He had turned all the pictures around, 
and stuffed a suit of Homer’s clothes with pillows 
and put it in my bed, and — oh, just raised Cain 
generally. He thought he was awfully funny, I 
guess. You remember him. Fan? ” 

Fanning nodded, but Halliday looked blank. 

“ A big, round-faced fellow,” reminded Homer. 
“ Roomed in 14 last year, with Dickerman. 
Played guard on the second for awhile.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember. Say, what became of 
him, anyway? He isn’t here this year, is he? ” 

“ No, he didn’t come back. Went to Andover 
or somewhere up that way,” answered Arnold. 
“ Well, anyway, Homer and I decided we’d get 
even with him. Homer’s folks had just sent a 
box and there was about a half a dozen boxes of 
soda crackers in it. So we emptied the lot in Gar- 
field’s bed. Sort of spread them around neatly 

155 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and then tidied everything up again so you wouldn’t 
ever think it had been touched. But afterwards 
we thought that maybe he would just pick the 
crackers out and eat them. So we went over and 
visited him that evening about nine and sat on his 
bed. The way — ” 

“ I thought every time we moved he’d hear the 
silly things go crunch! laughed Homer. “ But 
he didn’t. We made an awful lot of noise — ” 

“ He wanted us to sit in chairs,” chuckled Ar- 
nold, “ but we told him we preferred the bed. 
Said we were dead tired and wanted to lean back. 
After a bit we got to rough-housing, just to finish 
the job nicely, and we had it all over the bed, the 
crackers crunching finely. We had to shout and 
howl so he wouldn’t hear them. He said we were 
a couple of silly idiots and if we didn’t cut it out 
‘ Muscles ’ would hear the row and be up. So we 
let up after we’d rolled all over the bed and said 
good-night to him and hoped he’d have a nice, 
restful sleep, and went home.” 

“ Did he? ” laughed Fanning. 

“ Like anything! After his light went out Ho- 
mer and I opened the door and listened. We 
didn’t have to listen long, though. We heard him 
156 


TRADE FALLS OFF 


mutter something and then there was a roar 
and he landed out in the middle of the room, I 
guess. We saw the light go on again and — 
well, we thought we’d better go to bed about then. 
Which we did, locking the door very, very care- 
fully first. He almost broke it in before Mr. 
Bendix came bounding upstairs to see what the 
trouble was I ” 

“ Yes,” added Homer, “ and the low-life told 
‘ Muscles ’ about it and showed him the bed 1 
Garfield was one of those chaps who just love a 
joke — as long as it isn’t on him I ” 

“What did ‘Muscles’ do?” asked Halliday 
delightedly. 

“ Not a thing. Told Garfield to shake his 
sheets out and go to bed. But he wouldn’t speak 
to either of us for days and days; Garfield, I mean. 
Seemed real peeved at us ! ” 

“ I’ll bet worse things than that have hap- 
pened to him at Andover, or wherever he is,” 
chuckled Fanning. “ It doesn’t take long to find 
out a fellow who can’t stand a joke, and then 
every one has a whack at him. Garfield was a pill, 
anyway. I played left half that year on the scrub, 
and Garfield was always funking. Just let some 

157 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


one kick him in the shins and he was ready to quit. 
Talking about shins, fellows, I wish you’d see the 
peach that I’m wearing just now. Every time any 
fellow swings his stick it gets my left shin. I’ve 
got a regular map on it, with every state a different 
color. I’m thinking of getting a pair of leg- 
guards like Tucker wears. Those shin pads they 
give us aren’t any good. Casement doesn’t even 
know they’re there when he gets to slashing. I 
never saw a chap who could bang around with his 
stick the way he can, and get away with it. Some 
day though, he will make me lose my temper, and 
when he does he’s going to get something to re- 
member.” 

Tut, tut,” said Halliday, soothingly. 

What’s a crack on the shin between friends? 
Save your revenge. Fan, and work it off on Broad- 
wood.” 

“ Yes, you’ll have Tony Spaulding to fight 
then,” said Arnold. 

“ Is he such a wonder? ” asked Fanning. 

“ You saw him last year, didn’t you? ” 

“ Yes, but I didn’t think he was anything re- 
markable. He — ” 

“ He scored six of their ten goals,” said 
158 


TRADE FALLS OFF 


Arnold. “That’s doing fairly well, isn’t it?” 

“ Yes, I dare say, but Henry let a lot of shots 
get by him that never ought to have been caged. 
Say, when’s Hen coming back? Lamson’s an aw- 
ful frost as a goal-tend.” 

“ About two weeks from now, he thinks,” re- 
plied Halliday. “ He flunked in German and got 
about a dozen conditions in other things.” 

“ Only a dozen? ” asked Homer. “ Well, if it 
takes him as long to make up as it’s going to take 
me he will be back about June.” 

“ I wish he was back now,” said Fanning, 
gloomily. “ Warren Hall won’t do a thing to us 
to-morrow. Those chaps were born with hockey 
sticks in their mouths, I guess.” 

“ Frank hasn’t made a bad showing,” said Ar- 
nold. “ I don’t say he’s as good as Henry, but I 
think he’s a pretty fair goal-tend.” 

“ Lamson couldn’t stop a medicine-ball if you 
rolled it at him,” jeered Fanning. “ Maybe he 
might if he’d stick around the net, but he thinks 
he has to skate out and play point most of the 
time. Loring told him yesterday that if he didn’t 
stay where he could touch the net all the time he’d 
have him tied to it.” 


159 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


‘‘ You’re prejudiced, I guess,” said Arnold 
warmly. “ Other fellows think Frank’s doing 
mighty well. I’ve heard lots of them say so, too. 
He hasn’t had the experience that Henry’s had, 
of course, but he certainly made some nice stops 
to-day.” 

“ All right, I don’t know anything about it,” 
agreed Fanning. “ But I do know that Warren 
Hall will shoot him so full of holes to-morrow that 
he will look like a blooming sieve. Why, hang 
it, Arn, Toby Tucker here can play goal better 
than Lamson right now! And Tucker never 
played hockey until this winter 1 ” 

“Neither did Frank — much,” defended Ar- 
nold. “ He played about a month on the second 
last year — ” 

“ He may get the hang of it,” interposed Ted 
Halliday, entering the discussion, “ but I think 
you’re dead wrong, Arn, when you say he can play 
goal. To my mind he was never meant for a 
goal-tend. He’d make a much better cover point, 
because he’s a good stick-handler and skates well 
and is heavy enough to keep his feet when he’s 
checked. But he’s dead slow at the net. If 
Henry doesn’t get back I’ll wager you anything 
i6o 


TRADE FALLS OFF 

you like that Tucker plays goal against Broad- 
wood.” 

“ Right! ” agreed Fanning. Arnold shrugged 
his shoulders. Toby sat up suddenly and almost 
choked on the cracker he was eating. 

“ Me 1 ” he ejaculated. 

‘‘ Surest thing you know,” asserted Fanning. 
“ If Henry doesn’t work off his conditions — ” 

“ There’s only you and Lamson,” interrupted 
Halliday. “ Unless they swipe some fellow from 
the second, and I don’t know who he’d be. 
You’re a heap better than Warren, aren’t you? ” 

“I — I suppose I’m a little better,” allowed 
Toby. 

“ Yes, and Warren’s a lot better than that new 
fellow. Guild. All you’ll have to do is to beat out 
Lamson, and if you can’t do that I hope you 
choke.” This was from Fanning. Arnold 
laughed. 

“ I’d be glad to see Toby get it,” he said, “ but 
I don’t believe Lamson is as bad as you fellows 
think he is. Anyway, Crowell is satisfied with 
him.” 

“ Crowell doesn’t let you know whether he’s 
satisfied or dissatisfied,” said Halliday. “ Still, 

i6i 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


I don’t care who plays goal for us as long as he 
stops Broadwood from scoring. That’s the main 
thing, I guess. I’ve got to trot. Coming along, 
Fan? No more juice of the sun-kissed orange, 
thanks, Homer. I’m full of it now. I’ll bet I’ve 
got enough different kinds of chemicals inside me 
to stock a laboratory ! ” 

“You have not! ” denied Homer indignantly. 
“ That’s pure fruit-juice untouched by the human 
hand and passed by the board of censors.” 

Halliday and Fanning took their departure, 
laughing, and Toby, so far a very silent member 
of the party, broached the object of his visit. 

“ I wish you’d go over to Greenburg with me in 
the morning, Arn, and help me buy some leg- 
guards and a pair of gloves. Will you? ” 

“ Of course, if I can. What time? ” 

“Eleven? You don’t have anything then, do 
you?” 

“Not on Saturday. All right We won’t 
take Homer, though. He indulges in too much 
levity on such solemn occasions.” 

“ Thanks, but Homer wouldn’t go if he was 
asked. Homer has given his promise to expunge 
three conditions between now and the fifteenth day 
162 


TRADE FALLS OFF 


of February, and what Homer promises, that he 
performs.” His expression of implacable virtue 
was, however, somewhat marred by a cavern- 
ous yawn. “ Still, if you really need my advice, 
Toby—” 

“ No, thanks, Fm not buying neckties to-mor- 
row.” 

With which bon-mot Toby closed the door be- 
hind him before Homer could think of a suitable 
B©joinder. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE MARKED COIN 

F rank LAMSON was coming along the 
corridor as Toby reached the top of the 
last flight. The fact that Stillwell’s door 
was open Indicated that Frank had been paying a 
visit to the substitute cover point. Toby was for 
passing with a nod and a word, but Frank, who 
seemed to be In unusually good humor, stopped. 

“ Hello, Sober Sides,” he greeted. “ What’s 
the good word? ” 

“ Hello, Frank,” answered Toby without much 
enthusiasm. “ How are you? ” 

“ Oh, fine I How do you like playing on a real 
team, Toby? ” 

“ Pretty well. I’ll probably like It better when 
I get more — more used to it. I dare say you 
found it hard at first, didn’t you? ” 

“ Rather! You wait till you have Crowell and 
Arn and those chaps shooting at you. Then 
you’ll know what playing goal really Is. Say, I 
164 


THE MARKED COIN 


heard that Dave Henry isn’t coming back. Know 
anything about it? ” 

Toby shook his head. No. They were talk- 
ing about it to-night in Arn’s room, but I got the 
idea that he expected to get off probation in two or 
three weeks.” 

“Two or three weeks?” Frank repeated cal- 
culatingly. “ That would make it just before the 
Broadwood game. Well, I don’t wish him any 
bad luck, but I’d like it just as well if he didn’t.” 
Frank grinned and winked expressively. “ I’d 
sort of like to play goal myself against Broad- 
wood, you see.” 

“ You think that if Henry didn’t get back you’d 
play? ” asked Toby innocently. 

“ Sure thing! Why not? Who else is 
there?” asked Frank in surprise. “Unless you 
think you’re going to do it.” Frank was plainly 
amused. 

“ Well, if anything happened to you,” said Toby 
gravely, “ I might have a chance.” 

“ Nothing’s going to happen to me, Tobias. 
So don’t set your hope on that,” chuckled Frank. 
“ What could happen, eh? ” 

“ Well, you might fall downstairs and break 
165 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

something, or you might have measles or scarlet 
fever — ’’ 

“ Don’t be an idiot,” growled the other. “ I 
dare say you’d like something to happen, though. 
I guess it wouldn’t do you much good, however. 
You’re too green yet, son.” 

“ I suppose so,” agreed Toby reluctantly. “ I 
dare say it will take me a long time to learn to 
play goal the way you do, Frank.” 

Frand nodded, placated and cheerful again. 
“ Oh, I’m not such a much,” he replied. “ I can’t 
play the game Henry can yet, but I haven’t had 
the practice he’s had. But if he stays out an- 
other two weeks or so it might just happen that we 
wouldn’t want him so much. That chap Loring’s 
a great coach. He’s showing me a lot of things. 
I’ll bet you that in another week they won’t be get- 
ting ’em by me so’s you’ll notice it, Toby.” 

“ Yes, a lot can happen in a week.” Toby 
agreed thoughtfully. 

“ Right-0 ! Well, good-night. How’s busi- 
ness? Still pressing? Oh, by the way,' old scout, 
I still owe you a small bit, don’t I? ” 

“ One dollar, five,” answered Toby promptly. 

“ All right. I’ll pay that to-morrow, Toby. I 

i66 


THE MARKED COIN 


really meant to settle it long ago, but you know 
how it is. I blew in so much money at Christmas 
that I came back stoney-broke. There’s a chap 
owes me a couple of dollars, and I’ll collect it to- 
morrow and pay you, Toby. Good-night.” 

Frank went off, whistling cheerfully, and Toby 
entered his room and spread his books out. “ I 
wish he would pay me,” he muttered. “ But I 
don’t suppose he will. And I wish — I wish I 
knew where he got that scarf-pin I ” 

Toby hurried out of Mr. Gladdis’s English class 
the next forenoon at a minute after eleven and 
scurried across to Whitson and up two flights of 
stairs. In his room he dumped his books on the 
table, slipped on a sweater under his jacket, put 
on his cap and then paused before the door and 
thoughtfully patted his pockets. Wasn’t there 
something else? Of course! He must take 
some money with him! So he went to the bu- 
reau and, pulling open the second drawer, rum- 
maged around for the little pasteboard box that 
held his Hockey Fund. 

“ That’s funny,” he murmured, turning over 
the scanty contents of the drawer. Finally he 
pulled everything out. The little box was cer- 
167 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


tainly not there ! He shook each garment and 
put it back hurriedly and agitatedly, and still no 
box came to light. He looked searchingly about 
the room, on the table, on the bureau, even on the 
floor. Then he went through the other drawers, 
tossing their contents about anxiously. Finally, 
at a loss, he stopped and, plunging his hands into 
his pockets, frowned at the floor. 

“ I had it out last night,” he recalled. “ I 
made change for Tommy Lingard. But I didn’t 
take it away from the bureau and I remember put- 
ting it right back again. At least. I’m almost 
sure. I suppose I might have dropped it in my 
pocket. But I had these clothes on — ” He ran- 
sacked his pockets, but without success. Then: 
“ It must be here,” he muttered, and once more he 
searched the second drawer in the bureau, again 
taking everything out and shaking it thoroughly. 
But there was no box and no six dollars and a 
quarter I It was certainly puzzling! To make 
certain that he had not put the contents of the box 
in his pocket, he turned his pockets inside-out. 
Sixteen cents, mostly in coppers, that crumpled 
dollar bill that Lingard had given him, a knife, a 
bone button that belonged on his overcoat and a 

i68 



that’s funny,” he murmured 





THE MARKED COIN 


skate key emerged from his trousers. His waist- 
coat yielded his memorandum-book and a leather 
case containing a fountain pen and two pencils. 
From his coat he extracted a handkerchief, a small 
roll of lead wire, the inch-long remains of a third 
pencil, a letter from his mother which had reached 
him that morning and the end of a roll of adhesive 
tape. That was all. He restored the articles to 
his pockets, all save the letter and the button, and 
sank dejectedly into the dilapidated arm-chair. 

At that moment footsteps came along the hall 
and Arnold called: “ Are you there, Toby? ” 

“ Yes,” was the dismal response. “ Come on 
in.” 

“ It’s nearly twenty minutes past eleven — ” be- 
gan Arn, appearing in the doorway. Then he 
caught sight of Toby’s dejected countenance and 
stopped. “ Hello, what’s the matter, Toby? ” 

“ I can’t find my money.” 

‘‘ Can’t find it? Where was it? ” 

“ In the bureau drawer. It was in a little box 
and I hid it under some things there. And now 
it’s gone ! ” 

“ Oh, feathers I Look again. How much was 
it?” 


169 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ I have looked again. There was six dollars 
and a quarter in it.” 

Arn whistled expressively and viewed the still 
open drawer. “ Let me have a look,” he said. 
But he was no more successful than Toby had 
been. “ You probably put it somewhere else,” 
he suggested brightly. “ Have you looked in the 
other drawers? ” 

“ I’ve looked everywhere,” answered Toby 
sadly. “ It — it just isn’t anywhere ! ” 

“You don’t suppose — you don’t suppose any 
one’s taken it, do you? ” asked Arnold, frowning. 

“ No one knew it was there. Besides, no one 
ever comes in here except Nellie.” 

“ Well, Nellie wouldn’t take it. She’s been 
goody here for years. So, if no one took it, it 
must be around somewhere. Come on and let’s 
make a thorough search, Toby.” 

Ten minutes later they acknowledged defeat. 

“ I’m awfully sorry, Toby,” said Arnold. 
“ But maybe it will turn up yet. Things do, you 
know, when you’re not looking for them. I guess, 
anyway, it’s too late to go to Greenburg now, for I 
promised Frank I’d play pool with him in the club 
at twelve. I’d lend you the money, but I’m just 
170 


THE MARKED COIN 


about broke. I say, though, they’ll charge stuff to 
you, Toby. They aren’t supposed to, but they do 
it right along. Lots of fellows have accounts in 
Greenburg. If faculty doesn’t get on to it you’re 
all right — as long as you don’t let things run too 
long. Maybe we can get over Monday after din- 
ner.” 

“ What’s the good of having them charged if I 
can’t pay for them?” asked Toby morosely. 
“ Anyway, I wouldn’t dare to. When you win a 
scholarship you have to be mighty careful, don’t 
you? ” 

“ I don’t know,” laughed Arnold. “ I never 
won one yet. Well, cheer up, old man. You’ll 
run across that money when you aren’t expecting 
to. Come along up to Cambridge and play pool.” 

“ I don’t know how, thanks. You go ahead.” 

“ Well, come and watch me beat Frank then.” 

But Toby refused and presently Arnold hurried 
away to keep his appointment, leaving Toby star- 
ing disappointedly after him. “ He’d rather play 
pool with Frank than help me find my money,” he 
told himself. Considering that Arnold had put 
in a good ten minutes of searching, that was rather 
unjust, but Toby was in no mood to judge persons 
171 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


or things fairly just now. “ If it had been he who 
lost it,” Toby muttered resentfully, “ I’d have 
stayed around and helped him find it. I wish I’d 
asked him to tell Frank to bring around that dol- 
lar and five cents I ” 

Presently he set to work restoring the room to 
its wonted tidiness, always hoping that the Hockey 
Fund would turn up. But it didn’t, and when 
things were once more in place he banged the door 
behind him and went downstairs and loafed dis- 
consolately around the Prospect until dinner time. 
It was much too cold for comfort, but Toby found 
satisfaction in being miserable and cold. 

He didn’t see Arnold at dinner, for he went into 
commons early, and Arnold, staying late at the 
pool table in the Cambridge Club — one of the 
two rival social and debating clubs of which the 
other was known as Oxford — didn’t arrive until 
he had gone out. Toby cleaned young Lingard’s 
clothes after dinner, filling Number 22 with the 
odor of benzine, and then hung the garments on 
their hangers by an open window. By that time 
it was nearly three and Toby went over to the gym- 
nasium and joining the throng in the locker-room, 
changed into hockey togs. When he reached the 
172 


THE MARKED COIN 


rink Warren Hall was already hard at work, a 
dozen sturdy-looking youths with black-and-yellow 
stockings, sweaters and toques. Warren yielded 
the ice to Yardley, Toby and Frank skated to the 
goals and ten minutes of practice followed. To- 
day Toby’s heart was not in his work and about 
every other shot went past him into the cage. It 
seemed to him that he spent most of his time hook- 
ing the puck out with the blade of his stick. But 
he didn’t care. What Frank had said last night 
was probably quite true, anyway. No matter 
how hard he tried they’d never let him be more 
than a substitute this year. Even if Frank failed 
to make good Crowell would probably take War- 
ren from the second to fill his place. The world 
was very unjust, and — 

“Wake up. Tucker! Get onto your job!” 
cried Flagg at this point in his reflections. “ I 
can’t play point and goal too, you know ! ” 

So Toby tapped his stick on the ice, crouched 
and gave a very good imitation of a goal-tend with 
his mind on the game. The machinations of the 
forwards were foiled, Toby stopping the waist- 
high shot with his body and whisking the puck out 
of the way before Gladwin could reach it. But 

173 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the next charge was more successful, although the 
shot was an easy one, and possibly it was well for 
Toby’s reputation as a coming goal-tend that the 
referee, a Greenburg High School teacher, blew 
his whistle about that time. Toby and the other 
substitutes skated to the boards, climbed over, 
donned their coats and ranged themselves on the 
benches. The two teams assembled about the 
referee and listened to his warnings and the rival 
captains watched the fall of the coin. Warren 
Hall, winning the toss, took the south goal. The 
players skated to position. For Yardley, Frank 
Lamson was at goal. Framer at point, Halliday 
at cover point, Crumbie at right center, Captain 
Crowell at left center, Arnold Deering at right end 
and Rose at left end. Jim Rose’s return to the 
first line-up was accepted on the bench as evidence 
that he had proved his right to hold the position 
for the rest of the season. Crowell and a tall 
black-and-yellow stockinged youth faced off, the 
whistles blew and the game began. 

Warren Hall started a march toward the Yard- 
ley goal at the outset, but the right center was so 
slow on his skates that the rest of the forward line 
were all offside before the middle of the rink was 

174 


THE MARKED COIN 


reached. The puck was stopped, but Warren 
again secured it and her big cover point once more 
started down the center toward the opponent’s 
cage. Captain Crowell intercepted him, how- 
ever, and took the puck away, and then, keeping a 
straight course with his team-mates abreast, he 
skated down to the black-and-yellow goal and shot 
through the outer defense for the first tally. 
Crowell had made no attempt to fool the defen- 
ders and his success was due to the fact that the 
Warren Hall goal-tend had the puck hidden from 
him by his skates. Some three minutes later 
Yardley caged the disk again after a very pretty 
exhibition of team work by Captain Crowell and 
Jim Rose. Crowell carried the puck down the 
ice and .passed it to Rose near the Warren Hall 
goal. Rose slid it back to Crowell and the latter 
snapped it in. Yardley’s cheers, however, were 
quickly stilled, for a forward pass had been de- 
tected and the tally was not allowed. 

Subsequent to this disappointment Yardley tried 
hard to score, but were unable to do so because of 
the stubborn defense of the black-and-yellow goal- 
tend, who during the ensuing ten minutes made 
some really remarkable stops. On one occasion 

175 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Arnold Deering broke through and had nothing 
between him and the net but the goal-tend. The 
latter came out and made a neat stop, the puck 
bounding away from his leg-guard. Had there 
been another Yardley player on hand to take a 
shot at that moment the home team would have 
had another goal to her credit. The Warren 
cover point started another of his bull-dog rushes, 
and, after spilling Ted Halliday head-over-heels, 
himself came to grief when he bumped Framer 
and went sprawling along the ice to bring up with 
a crash against the boards. The game slowed up 
after that and the referee had to warn both teams 
against loafing. The first period ended with the 
score I to o in Yardley’s favor. Thus far the 
Blue had shown far better offensive and defensive 
playing, save, perhaps, in the matter of goal-tend. 
Frank Lamson had had but six chances and none 
of them had been difficult, thanks to Halliday and 
Framer. Yardley had lost several opportunities 
to score by slowing up near goal. Crumbie and 
Rose both showed a tendency to hesitate when a 
quick shot would have scored, and all save Cap- 
tain Crowell showed the need of practice in shoot- 
ing. 


176 


THE MARKED COIN 

When the second period began Warren again 
scored the puck at the face-off and took the offen- 
sive. She at once invaded Yardley territory, but 
the man with the puck was “ knifed ” by Halliday 
and Framer. The puck went up and down the 
rink, with neither team showing much in the way 
of team-play. A scrimmage in front of the War- 
ren Hall cage gave Arnold his chance to shoot 
the disk past the goal-tend, but again a forward 
pass was called and again Yardley had to swallow 
her disappointment. Shortly after that Crumble 
was sent off for one minute for loafing, and War- 
ren Hall tried desperately to penetrate the Yard- 
ley outer guard, but lost the puck after every rush. 
Crumble came back with instructions from Coach 
Loring to keep the puck away from the Yardley 
goal. With five minutes of the final period left, 
the play became fast and furious, Yardley confin- 
ing herself to the defensive. A black-and-yellow 
forward was sent off for tripping. Halliday 
stopped a long shot in front of his position and 
evaded the Warren Hall players to the net. But 
his shot went three feet wide. Warren got to- 
gether with the return of the penalized player and 
showed a brief flash of team-work, taking the puck 
177 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


down to her opponent’s goal and finally slamming 
a shot at Lamson. Frank caught the puck with 
his hand, dropped it and flicked it aside. It 
bounded off a skate and the Warren right center 
was on it like a flash. A quick lift and the puck 
shot into the cage, passing between Frank Lam- 
son’s body and the side of the net. Had Frank 
shifted himself four inches he would have made 
the stop, but it all happened so suddenly that he 
was caught unawares. The period ended with 
the score tied. 

After a five-minute rest the teams went back to 
it again for a “ sudden death ” period, the first 
team scoring to win. Gladwin went in for Crum- 
ble and Casement for Deering, and Warren Hall 
tried a new cover point. All kinds of chances 
were taken by both sevens, but to no avail. Cro- 
well had two opportunities to bring the game to an 
end, but he failed to produce a tally. Once he 
reached the net unchecked but lost his balance and 
was unable to shoot. A second time his try was 
neatly stopped by the goal-tend. Had he fol- 
lowed his shot then he might still have secured a 
tallyy but he swung to the right and the rebounding 
puck was slashed aside by the point. Darkness 
178 


THE MARKED COIN 


made it almost impossible to see the puck now, and 
when, at the end of nine minutes, a flurry of snow 
began to fall the referee blew his whistle and 
brought the game to a disappointing and indecisive 
end. 

Toby took his way back to the gymnasium 
through the snowy twilight with the rest. Person- 
ally he was less concerned with the disappointing 
outcome of the game than with the loss of his 
money. Of course he had wanted Yardley to 
win, but there are more important things in life 
than a hockey victory, and one of them is losing 
six dollars and twenty-five cents when that amount 
has been earned by hard labor and represents 
something very much like a small fortune. Ev- 
ery one else was talking at the top of his voice in 
the locker room and proving, at least to his own 
satisfaction, that, in spite of the final scores, the 
contest rightfully belonged to Yardley. 

“ I wish Ted Halliday would fix up a return 
game with them,” said Framer earnestly. 
“ That’s what I wish.” 

“ That referee chap was crazy in the head like 
an onion,” proclaimed Simpson, who had been de- 
tached from the second team to take Dunphy’s 
179 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


place. “ Every time we shot a goal he called off- 
side on us.” 

“ Oh, I guess he was all right,” said Jim Rose. 
“ I know for a fact that Cap was offside that first 
time when I passed to him. There’s no use growl- 
ing at the referee. Simp.” 

Toby waited around a few minutes for Arnold, 
but when he discovered him talking with Frank 
Lamson, still only partly dressed, he made his way 
out and walked over to Whitson alone. Back in 
Number 22, he searched for the missing box for 
the fifth or sixth time. A half-hearted attempt to 
polish up his morrow’s algebra was interrupted 
by the six o’clock bell and he went down to com- 
mons. 

The occupants of Table 14 had recovered their 
spirits, if they had lost them, and were very merry 
that evening. Or most of them were. Toby was 
not. Toby satisfied a healthy hunger in almost 
uninterrupted silence and viewed life gloomily. 
Supper was half over when Arnold came in. 
Gladwin at once started a discussion of the game 
and he and Arnold, who seldom agreed on any 
subject under the sun, were soon at it across the 
board. Gladwin was a bit cocky by reason of hav- 
180 


THE MARKED COIN 


ing been sent in in the overtime period and was 
more than ever inclined to think his own opinions 
about right. 

“We had the game sewed up until Lamson 
made that rotten fluke,” he declared. “ Gee, a 
child could have stopped that shot! The puck 
wasn’t even going fast 1 ” 

“ I don’t believe any fellow would have stopped 
it,” answered Arnold stoutly. “ I was right there 
and I saw it. Frank whisked it to the right and it 
hit off some one’s skate and a Warren chap had a 
clean path to the net. It was all done in a second 
and Frank didn’t have time to get into position 
again.” 

“Piffle! He was standing right by the left 
post when the shot was made,” returned Gladwin. 
“ If he had kept his eye on the puck he’d have seen 
it and stopped it with his body. The trouble was 
he lost sight of it. I tell you, if you’re going to 
play goal — ” 

“ Oh, you make me tired,” said Arnold shortly. 
“ If a goal-tend could stop every shot no one 
would ever win a game ! ” 

“ I don’t expect him to stop every shot, but 
when it comes to an easy one like that — ” 
i8i 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ It wasn’t an easy one, I tell you. It may have 
looked easy to you sitting on the bench — ” 

“ It sure did! And it looked easy to every one 
else except you and Lamson, I guess. You saw it, 
Tucker. Did it look to you to be a hard shot to 
stop?” 

Toby hesitated an instant. As a matter of 
fact, he considered Frank Lamson’s failure to 
make the stop quite excusable, but he wasn’t feel- 
ing very kindly toward Frank, nor toward Arnold 
either. “ It looked pretty soft to me,” he an- 
swered. 

“ Sure ! ” said Gladwin, triumphantly. 
“ That’s just what it was, soft! ” 

“ Maybe you’ll have a chance to stop some of 
those ‘ soft ’ ones,” said Arnold crossly to Toby. 
“ Then we’ll see how well you can do it.” 

“ I’ll bet he’d have stopped that one,” said 
Gladwin. “ What do you say, Warren? ” 

The second team goal shrugged. “ I wasn’t in 
position to see the shot,” he said. “ But I know 
it’s a mighty easy thing to criticize a goal-tend. 
Glad. Some of you fellows who think it’s so easy 
had better get out there sometime and try a few ! ” 
“That’s right,” agreed Arnold. “You have 
182 


THE MARKED COIN 


a go at it sometime, Glad. I’ll bet you wouldn’t 
be so critical of others then.” 

“ That’s no argument. I’m not a goal. Lam- 
son is, or pretends to be, and — ” 

“ Chuck it, Glad,” advised Jack Curran. 
“ Lamson did the best he could, I guess. What’s 
the good of throwing the harpoon into him? 
You wouldn’t like it yourself, would you? ” 

“ Oh, well, what does Arn want to pretend that 
Lamson’s the finest goal-tend in the world for? ” 
grumbled Gladwin. “ I haven’t got anything 
against Lamson, only — ” 

“ Well, quit knocking him then,” retorted Ar- 
nold. “ I don’t say he’s a wonder. I say he’s 
doing the best he knows how, and when a fellow 
does that — ” 

“ Angels can’t do more,” said Homer Wilkins, 
soothingly. “ Let’s talk about something else for 
a minute. I’m a bit fed up on Lamson.” 

Toby pushed back his chair and Arnold looked 
up. “ Wait for me, Toby, will you? ” he asked. 

“ I’ve got some work to do,” answered Toby 
stiffly. 

Arnold shrugged. “ Oh, all right. I just 
wanted to give you this. Catch! ” A crumpled 

183 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


envelope fell to the table with a tinkle in front 
of Will Curran, and the latter passed it on to 
Toby. 

“ What is it? ” asked Toby. 

“ Money or something. Frank asked me to 
give it to you this noon and I forgot all about 
it.” 

“ Oh 1 Thanks.” Toby dropped the envel- 
ope in his pocket and turned away. Homer Wil- 
kins smiled at his plate and Kendall and young 
Curran exchanged winks. Toby’s jealousy of 
Frank Lamson was no longer a secret. Arnold 
caught the wink, flushed, scowled and blamed Toby 
for the moment’s embarrassment he felt. On the 
way upstairs Toby regretted, just as he usually did, 
his churlishness, and hoped that Arnold would 
overlook it and come up to Number 22 later. He 
wished that he hadn’t taken sides with Gladwin, 
too. As little as he liked Frank Lamson, he 
thought that Frank had played a very good, 
steady game that afternoon and deserved credit. 
He felt that he owed Frank an apology, which did 
not tend to make him any more satisfied with him- 
self. Up in his room, he pulled the envelope from 
his pocket and emptied the contents into his palm. 

184 


THE MARKED COIN 


A half, two quarters and a five-cent piece lay there. 
Frank had paid in full, and Toby started to find 
his memorandum book and scratch off the debt. 
But his hand paused on its way to his vest pocket 
and he stepped swiftly to the light and peered cu- 
riously at the coins in his palm. An expression 
of amazement came to his face. Dropping all 
but one twenty-five cent piece on the table, 
he took that between his fingers and examined 
it, for an instant incredulously, finally with satis- 
faction. 

The only apparent point of difference between 
that quarter and the other one was that just over 
the date the letters “ E. D.” had been punched into 
the silver. The D was indistinct, but the first let- 
ter had cut deep into the coin, as though some one 
had struck the cutting die an uneven blow. The 
letters were about half again as large as the nu- 
merals in the date, large enough to attract the at- 
tention of any one glancing at that side of the coin. 
There was nothing startling in the presence of the 
initials. Toby had frequently been possessed of 
coins having letters stamped or scratched on them. 
Nor was he at all concerned as to the identity of 
“ E. D.” What accounted for his interest was 

185 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the fact that over a month before, in New York 
City, he had received that identical quarter in 
change at a dry goods store and that as late as 
twenty-four hours since it had reposed in a little 
paste-board box in his second bureau drawer. 


CHAPTER XIII 

TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 

T oby seated himself at the table, rested his 
chin in his hands and, with the twenty-five 
cent piece before him, tried to think what 
it all meant. The quarter had been in the box, 
the box had mysteriously disappeared and now the 
quarter had turned up again. Logic told him that 
the person who had sent him the quarter had taken 
the box, but that, of course, meant theft, and, for 
all his dislike of Frank Lamson, he couldn’t be- 
lieve him a thief. Frank might be overbearing 
and self-important and something of a snob, and 
possess numerous other faults that Toby couldn’t 
think of just at the moment, but dishonesty was 
another matter. Besides, Frank’s folks were 
well-to-do, if not actually wealthy, and Frank had 
plenty of spending money — even if he didn’t pay 
all his bills promptly. 

Another circumstance against the logical theory 
was that Frank hadn’t known of the existence of 

187 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

that six dollars and a quarter, much less, where it 
was kept. But, for that matter, neither had any 
one else known of it, and yet beyond the shadow 
of a doubt some one had taken it. Hold on, 
though! Perhaps some one had known of it! 
He had gone to the bureau when Tommy Lingard 
was in the room, and, although he hadn’t taken 
the box from the drawer. Tommy might easily 
have guessed the existence of it. That put a new 
phase on the matter, and Toby frowned harder 
than ever. Granting that Tommy had known of 
the money being there, it would have been an easy 
thing for him to have taken it. No fellow ever 
locked his door at Yardley, whether he was in or 
out, and young Lingard might have walked into 
Number 22 at any time during Toby’s absence. 
So might any one else. Frank Lamson, for in- 
stance. Somehow It seemed quite as Impossible 
to connect Tommy Lingard with the theft of the 
money as It was to suspect Frank of It, though not 
for the same reason. Toby believed that Frank 
was honest. He didn’t have the same conviction 
regarding Tommy Lingard, but Tommy was such 
a shy, ingenuous youngster that one couldn’t Imag- 
ine him having the courage to either plan a bur- 
188 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


glary or, having planned it, carry it out. Suspect- 
ing Tommy of robbery was like suspecting a ca- 
nary of murder ! Still — 

Toby sat back suddenly and thrust his hands 
into his pockets, staring at a crack in the plaster 
with half-closed eyes. Last night he had found 
Frank coming along the corridor. Because Still- 
well’s door had been ajar Toby had presumed 
that Frank had come from that room. But he 
might just as well have come from 22! And 
Frank had himself recalled the debt and offered 
to pay it on the morrow, just as though — as 
though he had suddenly come into funds! Toby 
wished that he* knew whether Frank had really 
been tp see Stillwell. If he hadn’t — 

After a moment he arose resolutely and crossed 
the corridor to Number 23. Stillwell was at 
home, and, although he had his books spread be- 
fore him on the table, he was concerned with a 
quite different task than studying. He had three 
hockey sticks across his knees and was binding 
electric tape around the blade of one of them. 
He looked mildly surprised at Toby’s entrance, 
but was cordial enough. 

“ I’m patching up some old sticks^” he ex- 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


plained. “ They do well enough for practice. 
Sit down, Tucker. What’s on your mind? ” 

“ I can’t stay, thanks,” answered the visitor. 
“ I want to ask you a question, Stillwell. You 
may think it’s funny, and you needn’t answer it if 
you don’t want to. Anyway, I’d rather you didn’t 
tell any one I’d asked it.” 

“Hello! What’s the mystery? Fire away. 
Tucker. I’ll be as silent as the grave. Only, if 
it’s anything incriminating — ” 

“ Did Frank Lamson visit you last night? ” 

“ Huh? Frank Lamson? ” Stillwell looked 
at Toby in a puzzled way and shook his head 
slowly. “ Not last night. Tucker. Lamson 
hasn’t been here this term as far as I know. Un- 
less, of course, he came when I was out. But he 
couldn’t have done that last night because I was 
here all the evening.” 

“ You’re — you’re sure? ” 

“Don’t be an idiot. Tucker! Of course I’m 
sure. What’s the row, anyway? ” 

“ It’s nothing of any importance,” said Toby. 
“ Much obliged.” 

“ You’re welcome,” laughed the other, “ but I’ll 
be lying awake half the night trying to solve the 
190 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


mystery. You really oughtn’t to spring anything 
like that, Tucker, unless you can come across with 
the answer ! ” 

“ I’m sorry,” replied Toby apologetically. 
“ I’d explain it if I could, but I really can’t, Still- 
well.” 

“ All right, my boy. Don’t let it bother you. 
If Lamson committed the foul deed, I hope the 
hounds of Justice get him.” 

W-what foul deed?” stammered Toby in 
surprise. 

Stillwell laughed again. “ Don’t ask me I I’m 
only guessing.” 

‘‘Oh!” Toby’s ejaculation expressed relief. 
He smiLd. “ You’ve been reading dime novels, 
I guess. Good-night, and thanks.” 

Outside the door the smile vanished. Of 
course, this new evidence was only circumstantial, 
but it certainly supported the original theory. 
What puzzled Toby chiefly, though, was why 
Frank should steal — that is, take the money. If 
Frank needed money he could probably get it any 
time by writing home for it. There was, Toby 
decided as he closed his door behind him, just one 
explanation, which was that Frank had done it out 
191 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


of pure meanness ! But that wasn’t a very satis- 
factory explanation, after all. Further reflection 
was interrupted by Tommy Lingard, who came 
for his clothes. While Toby was taking them 
from the hangers he studied the younger boy in- 
tently. Tommy Lingard was thirteen, a pink- 
and-white youngster with light brown hair and a 
pair of big dark blue eyes. He was a handsome 
youth, in spite of a very turned-up nose, and had a 
rather engaging way of coloring shyly when 
spoken to. No, thought Toby, this picture of in- 
nocence could never have stolen the money. 
Nevertheless Toby remarked carelessly as he 
folded the clothes on the end of the table : 

“ Sorry I was out when you came before, Lin- 
gard.” 

The other boy reddened, but his eyes only grew 
rounder in surprise. “I — I didn’t come before. 
Tucker,” he said. “ I thought they wouldn’t be 
ready until to-night.” 

“ Oh, I sort of thought you did,” replied Toby. 
“ Here you are, then.” 

“ Th-thanks. How m-much is it, please ? ” 
stammered Lingard. 

“ A dollar and twenty. I won’t charge fof 
19*2 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


pressing the extra trousers, Lingard. They 
didn’t need much.” 

Tommy Lingard fished in his trousers pocket 
and drew out two folded bills and some change. 
One of the bills was of two-dollar denomination 
and the other of one. Lingard handed the latter 
to Toby and selected two dimes from amongst the 
coins. “That’s right, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“ Y-yes,” replied Toby. He was looking 
curiously at the dollar bill and apparently didn’t 
see the change that Lingard was holding out to 
him. “ Yes, that’s right,” he went on. “ Much 
obliged.” 

“ Here’s the twenty cents,” said the other. 

“ Oh, yes, thanks.” Toby accepted it. Then 
his gaze went back to the bill. Lingard walked 
toward the door. 

“ G-good-night,” he said. 

“ Good-night, Lingard.” Then, as the door 
was shutting behind the youngster, Toby called. 
“ I say, Lingard, just a moment, please I ” 

“ Yes? ” Lingard’s voice sounded faint. 

“ Er — you don’t happen to know where you 
got this, do you?” asked Toby, holding the bill 
out. Lingard retraced his steps slowly and 

193 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

looked at it. There was a full moment of silence. 
Then: 

“ N-no, I don’t,” Lingard said slowly. 
“ You see, I — ” He stopped. “ Why, of course 
I do ! ” he exclaimed triumphantly then. “ I’d 
forgotten. Frank Lamson gave it to me this 
morning. I owed him a dollar and he asked 
me for it and I gave him a two-dollar bill. Is — 
isn’t it all right? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I — I just wondered. It’s been torn, 
you see, and mended with a strip of court-plaster. 
It struck me that the court-plaster was a — a 
funny thing to patch a bill with. Maybe Frank 
did it, eh? ” 

“ He might have. I — I guess it’s just as 
good, isn’t it? ” 

“ Oh, certainly. You’re sure he gave it to you, 
eh?” 

“ Yes, I remember quite well now,” replied Lin- 
gard promptly. “ I borrowed a dollar of him 
last term to pay for having my trunk mended, 
and I forgot all about it until this morning — ” 

“ You and Frank are friends, then? ” 

“ Oh, yes. We live in the same street in New 
York, you know. Sometimes he borrows from 
194 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


me — when I have it.” Lingard paused. 
Then: “ If you don’t mind, Tucker, I’d rather 
you didn’t mention it to any one. I guess he 
wouldn’t want it known.” 

“ Why not?” 

“ Why — why, you see, other fellows might 
want to borrow from him. I — I’d rather you 
didn’t, please.” 

“ All right, Lingard. Good-night.” 

When the visitor’s footsteps had died away on 
the stairs Toby sat himself down at the table 
again, spread the dollar bill before him and then 
from the table drawer produced a little case con- 
taining three sheets of court-plaster. One was 
pink, one white and one black. The pink was 
whole, the black had been reduced to about half 
its original size and the white had had a strip 
about a quarter of an inch wide cut from its lower 
edge. Toby looked intently from that oblong of 
white sticking-plaster to the bill. Then he tore 
a piece of paper from a scratch-pad and found a 
pencil. Untying the little knot of silk that held 
the court-plaster book together, he extracted the 
pink sheet and laid it on the piece of paper and 
with the pencil carefully traced the outline of it. 

195 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


When that was done he laid the sheet of white 
plaster in place of the pink, and fitting it to the top 
and sides of the outline, passed his pencil across 
the bottom edge. After that he took his scissors 
and painstakingly cut out the quarter-inch strip re- 
maining between the two bottom marks, j As he 
had expected, the little piece of paper exactly fitted 
the strip of white court-plaster pasted ojver the 
edges of the tear in the dollar bill. There was no 
possibility of doubt. The two tallied to the hun- 
dredth part of an inch. 

Toby tied up the court-plaster book again and 
restored it, with the scissors, to the table drawer. 
Then, actuated by what motive he scarcely knew, 
he slipped the bill and the telltale strip of yellow 
paper into an envelope and placed that in the 
drawer too. And after that he laced his fingers 
together behind his head and leaned back and 
frowned intently at the flickering gas-jet. That 
dollar bill had come into his possession just after 
his return from vacation. Who had paid it to 
him he couldn’t recall now. But he remembered 
perfectly discovering the tear in it and how, fear- 
ing it might increase if not mended, he had hit on 
the, to him, clever idea of patching it with a strip 
196 


TOMMY LINGARD EXPLAINS 


of court-plaster. It was, he reflected, rather odd 
that the only two pieces of money in the little box 
which he could have identified should both have 
come back to him! He no longer doubted that 
Frank Lamson had taken the little box and its con- 
tents from his bureau drawer, although he could 
not for the life of him find a satisfactory motive 
for the theft. Unless, and after all that was the 
most plausible theory, Frank had been pressed for 
money and Arnold had mentioned to him that 
Toby had a fund stowed away to buy hockey 
things. Wanting a better explanation, that must 
do, Toby told himself. 

The next question was what was to be done 
about it. Toby’s proof, while positive to him, 
might not seem so to others. If he accused Frank 
and demanded the restitution of the stolen money 
Frank would, probably, deny emphatically and in- 
dignantly. It would be his word against Frank’s, 
and Frank was fairly well-liked and popular. 
But then he wouldn’t make it public, in any case, 
and a popular verdict had nothing to do with the 
affair. What he wanted was only the restoration 
of his six dollars and a quarter and if Frank re- 
fused to give it back to him the matter would have 
197 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


to rest right there. Toby had no notion of mak- 
ing the affair known. But, he thought vindica- 
tively, whether Frank was willing to restore the 
money to him or wasn’t, he would have the satis- 
faction of telling Frank what he thought of him ! 
To be able to tell Frank Lamson to his face that 
he was a thief was almost worth the loss of the 
money ! He planned and replanned what he 
would say. Even if he didn’t intend to make the 
matter public there’d be no harm in threatening 
Frank with it. He could scare him, at least. 
Frank, of course, would bluster and try to laugh 
at him, but for once that sort of thing wouldn’t 
work. Toby had the upper hand. 

There was no studying done in Number 22 
Whitson that evening. Nor was Toby disturbed 
again by visitors. He quite forgot his wish that 
Arnold would look him up. He forgot Arnold 
too. His mind was very busy planning how to 
wreak vengeance on Frank Lamson. He had not 
realized before to-night how thoroughly he hated 
that youth I 


CHAPTER XIV 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 

I HAVE already remarked that things look 
very different in the morning from what they 
do at night. Toby rolled out of bed some 
eight hours later with his mind made up to say noth- 
ing about the theft to any one, not even to Frank 
Lamson I Just when this resolve had come to him 
and by what process of reasoning he didn’t know, 
for he had certainly gone to sleep almost fidgety 
with the desire for morning and the opportunity to 
confront Frank with the charge of theft. There is 
a saying that the night brings counsel. It would 
be nearer the facts to say that sleep clears the 
brain. Violent emotions such as anger generate 
a poison, the scientists tell us, and sleep is one of 
the antidotes. Toby went to bed with a good 
deal of poison in his system and woke up quite 
free from it. He was just a little bit surprised 
at his change of heart, but he was more glad than 
surprised. After all, nothing was to be gained by 
199 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


making trouble for Frank. Evil-doers suffer 
eventually, anyway, and there was no reason why 
Toby should assume the role of Retribution. Be- 
sides, and I think this had a good deal of weight 
with him, Arnold liked Frank and believed in him, 
and Toby, now that he was no longer peeved with 
Arnold, didn’t want to cause him any pain. Six 
dollars and a quarter was still six dollars and a 
quarter, just as it had been last night, but it wasn’t 
worth acting the cad for! Business was looking 
up again, thanks, possibly, to the cut-rates adver- 
tised in The Scholiast^ and it wouldn’t be more 
than a week or so before he would have another 
six dollars. Meanwhile the purchase of hockey 
gloves and leg-guards could wait. Oddly enough, 
he found that his sentiment toward Frank Lamson 
this morning was far more charitable than it had 
been a week ago. Dislike was tinctured with 
pity. As a rival, either in hockey or in the affec- 
tions of Arnold, Frank seemed much less formid- 
able. So far as he was concerned, Toby decided 
as he shuffled down the corridor to the bath, the 
incident was closed. 

At breakfast Arnold’s manner showed that he 
had forgotten Toby’s aloofness of the evening be- 


200 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


fore and when the meal was over they went up to 
Number 12 and talked until it was time to go to 
chapel. Of course Arnold wanted to know if 
Toby had found his money, and was surprised 
when told that he hadn’t. He was so genuinely 
sorry that Toby secretly called himself a beast for 
ever doubting Arnold’s affection. 

“ Tell you what I’ll do, Toby,” said Arnold fi- 
nally. “ I’ll strike for an extra ten dollars and 
loan you six or seven, or whatever you want. I 
haven’t asked for any extra funds for months and 
months; anyway, not since November. Dad’s 
pretty firm about keeping inside my allowance, but 
I have a hunch he likes to slip me a little extra now 
and then if I can give him a decent excuse. Let’s 
see, now, what’ll I tell him? ” 

“ Tell him you need a hair-cut,” suggested 
Homer, who had come up a minute before. 
“ That’s what I always say.” 

“ Ten dollars for a hair-cut,” mused Arnold, 
“ sounds a bit thick, doesn’t it? Guess I’ll just 
say that I want to make a loan to a chap. That’s 
a new one and dad may fall for it.” 

“ Thanks, Arn,” said Toby, finally defeating 
the temptation to accept the loan, “ but I’d rather 


201 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


you didn’t. I’ll make that money up in a week or 
so and never know I lost it. The trouble about 
borrowing,” he added wisely, “ is that you have 
to pay up.” 

“ There wouldn’t be any hurry about it. You 
could pay a dollar now and then, whenever you 
happened to have it. Better let me do it, Toby.” 

But Toby was firm and Arnold finally gave up 
the scheme. “ Too bad, too,” he mourned, “ be- 
cause that was a brand-new and original touch, and 
I’d like to have seen whether it would work I ” 

Hockey practice the next afternoon was more 
than ordinarily strenuous. Mr. Loring, the vol- 
unteer coach, was back again after an absence of 
a few days, and made things hum. A new com- 
bination of forwards was tried out against the 
second, Crowell going from left center to left wing 
and Jim Rose taking the captain’s place. But, al- 
though that change lasted until Wednesday, it pro- 
duced no great improvement, and on Wednesday 
Crowell and Rose returned to their former posi- 
tions. Toby had his first real dose of goal-tend- 
ing that Monday afternoon, taking Frank Lam- 
son’s place in the second period. To say that he 
did better than Frank would be an exaggeration. 


202 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


but it’s fair to say that he did as well, and, since 
Frank had made several good stops that afternoon 
and held the second team to two tallies, saying that 
speaks well for Toby’s progress as a goal-tend. 
In the last half the second put the puck into the 
net three times. Simpson, Casement and Fanning 
had been sent in and the second team found them 
easier to contend with than the first-choice for- 
wards. During the last five minutes of play Still- 
well took Halliday’s place at cover point, and it 
was during Stillwell’s incumbency that the second 
scored that third goal. Stillwell took the wrong 
man, and Fraser, at point, allowed himself to be 
drawn too far out. A quick and clever pass in 
front of goal gave a second team forward a pretty 
chance for a score and, although Toby partly 
stopped the lifted puck with his hand, it dropped to 
the ice just inside the cage. Toby felt badly about 
that tally, but no one else seemed to. The first 
had a four point lead and another tally for the 
opponent mattered little. But after practice was 
over Coach Loring stopped Toby at the bench as 
he was pulling his coat on. 

“ Let me see those gloves you’re wearing, 
Tucker,” said Mr. Loring. 

203 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Toby exhibited them and the coach sniffed his 
contempt. “ No wonder that shot got by you/’ 
he said. “ Doesn’t it hurt to stop the puck with 
those things? ” 

“ Er — yes, sir, sometimes it does.” 

“ So I’d think. Why, those aren’t padded at 
all. Tucker! Where’d you get them? Haven’t 
you any others? ” 

“ No, sir, I haven’t any others. These are 
some I had. I — I’ve been thinking of getting 
some heavier ones — ” 

“ You’d better do it, my boy. Get a good pair 
of goal-tender’s gloves and throw those away. 
Those aren’t thick enough to keep your hands 
warm, and you might very easily get a shot that 
would break a bone. Can you buy gloves in 
Greenburg now? You couldn’t when I was 
here.” 

“ Yes, sir, they have them at Fessenden’s.” 

“ Better attend to getting them before you play 
again. If you’d had a heavy pair on to-day you 
could have stopped that last shot and saved your 
team a goal, couldn’t you? ” 

“ I think so. It — it was pretty hard.” 

Toby had donned his coat and they were fol- 
204 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


lowing in the wake of the others up the board- 
walk to the gymnasium. Toby didn’t know 
whether to try to fall behind or hurry ahead. It 
was scarcely conceivable that the coach wanted his 
company all the way up the hill 1 But Mr. Loring 
settled the matter himself just then. 

“ How long have you been playing goal, 
Tucker? ” he asked. 

“ About three weeks, sir.” 

“ Where’d you play before that? Point, I 
suppose.” 

“ Yes, sir, a few days.” 

“ Were you with the second last year? I don’t 
seem to remember you.” 

“ No, sir, I wasn’t here last year.” 

“Oh, that’s it? But you played somewhere 
else, I suppose.” 

“ No, I never played until last month, Mr. Lor- 
ing.” 

The coach looked surprised. “ Never played 
hockey at all? Well, but — you don’t want me 
to believe that you’ve learned all you know about 
playing goal in a month. Tucker? ” 

“ Yes, sir, but I’m afraid I don’t know very 
much,” responded Toby apologetically. 

205 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Hm, I don’t know. I’ve seen worse playing. 
When you learn to move a little bit quicker you 
ought to do pretty well.” The coach turned and 
surveyed Toby speculatively. “ Pull that cap off 
a minute.” 

Toby obeyed, wonderingly. 

” Thought so ! It’s red, isn’t it? ” 

Toby flushed and swallowed hard. Then: 
” Brown, sir,” he answered firmly. The coach 
laughed. 

“ Brown, is it? All right, Tucker, my mistake. 
I’m sorry.” 

“ It’s all right,” murmured Toby, forgivingly. 

“ Oh, I wasn’t apologizing,” retorted the 
coach, dryly. “ I meant that I was sorry it wasn’t 
red. You see. Tucker, I hav& a theory that a 
goal-tend ought to have red hair.” 

Toby looked his surprise. “Why, sir?” he 
asked. 

“ Because, Tucker, it has been my experience 
that fellows with red hair are fighters. When I 
played football I always looked the other team 
over for red-heads and if I saw one I kept close 
tabs on him. I don’t think I ever saw one yet that 
didn’t bear a lot of watching. Now you know 
206 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


why I’m a little disappointed in your case. Just at 
first, when you took your cap off, I thought there 
was a reddish tinge to your hair. Probably it was 
due to the sunset or the reflection from the snow 
or something.” 

There wasn’t any sunset, or, if there was, it 
wasn’t visible, and it was so nearly twilight that to 
talk of reflection from the snow was nonsense. 
Toby glanced at the coach suspiciously, but Mr. 
Loring’s face looked quite guileless. 

“ It’s always been a sorrow in my young life,” 
went on the coach meaningly, “ that I didn’t have 
red hair. I’d have done a heap better at every- 
thing, I guess.” 

“You — you’re fooling, aren’t you, sir?” 
asked Toby. 

“ Fooling? Nary a fool. Tucker. Red hair is 
the hall mark of getthereness. Tucker. It means 
pep and fight and determination, red hair does. 
Sometimes it means temper, too, but temper is all 
right if you learn to control it. i^nd sometimes 
— ” he paused a moment — “sometimes it means 
stubbornness. But stubbornness is all right, too, 
if exercised in a good cause. Of course, when a 
fellow says that black is white, when he knows it 
207 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

isn’t, and sticks to it, or insists that red is — ah — 
brown — ” 

Toby burst out laughing and Mr. Loring turned 
and regarded him smilingly, his thoughtful so- 
lemnity gone. 

“ It — it’s a little red, sir,” gasped Toby. 

“ I thought it couldn’t be all due to the sunset,” 
responded the coach with a chuckle. “ Well, 
here we are.” They stopped at the gymnasium 
steps. “ Where do you room. Tucker? ” 

“ In Whitson, sir. Number 22.” 

“That’s on the third floor, isn’t it? Mind if 
I look in on you some time? I haven’t really fin- 
ished my little lecture on red hair.” 

“ N D, sir, only — ” 

“ Only what? You mean you’re busy and 
have no time for callers? ” 

“ No, sir,” floundered Toby. “ I mean — I 
was afraid — you see, my room isn’t very — very 
comfortable — ” 

“ Oh, that’s it? Well, you’ve got a chair, I 
dare say.” 

“ Two of them,” answered Toby. 

“ Fine ! Going to be in this evening? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 


208 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


“ I’ll be up for a few minutes, then, between 
nine and ten. Better get inside quickly. Tucker, 
or you’ll get stiff.” 

Toby hurried up the steps and through the door, 
excited and elated. Maybe, he was thinking. 
Coach Loring would tell him how to better his 
goal work. Toby had heard that Mr. Loring had 
been a fine hockey player in his day and had cap- 
tained his team here at Yardley. He wondered 
if, by any chance, he had played goal. He would 
ask some one. But in the locker room the idea 
was put out of his head for the time, for just in- 
side the swinging doors he almost collided with 
Frank Lamson. It was the first time they had 
been near enough to exchange words since the 
night they had met in the upper corridor of Whit- 
son. If Toby expected to detect signs of guilt in 
Frank’s countenance he was doomed to disappoint- 
ment. Frank only smiled in his careless, some- 
what patronizing manner and asked : 

“ Did you get that money from Arn, Tucker? 
Sorry to be slow about it.” He didn’t sound very 
sorry, or look especially penitent, and a few days 
ago Toby would have resented the fact. To-day, 
for some reason, he didn’t, however. Frank 
209 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


seemed much less important than before, much 
less capable of irritating the other. Toby nodded. 

“ Yes, thanks,” he said. 

“ All right. Well, you and I seem to be rivals, 
old scout, eh? ” 

“How is that?” asked Toby, although he 
knew what Frank meant. 

“ Why, for goal, you know. I’ll have to keep 
an eye on you, Toby. You didn’t do so rottenly 
to-day, what? Speed it up a bit, my boy, and 
you’ll get there yet. Heard anything more about 
Henry’s coming back? ” 

“ No, I haven’t,” answered Toby carelessly. 

“ You don’t seem to care, either. Well, it 
mightn’t make much difference to you. By the 
way, are those cut-rate prices still on? I’ve got 
a suit that wouldn’t be any worse for cleaning. 
I’ll fetch it up some day soon.” 

Toby was glad when Frank let him go, for the 
temptation to hold out his hand and say “ I’d like 
my six dollars and a quarter, please ! ” was strong. 
And, besides, Toby felt oddly uncomfortable in 
Frank’s society, knowing what he did. After- 
wards it occurred to him that Frank had seemed 
absolutely at ease, and that puzzled him. “ Of 


210 


A QUESTION OF COLOR 


course, he doesn’t suspect that I know,” argued 
Toby, “ but, still, you’d think he’d be a bit 
ashamed of himself and want to keep out of my 
way. Why, he’s more — more friendly since he 
stole my money than he was before I ” 


CHAPTER XV 

TQBY ENTERTAINS 

T oby had the little room under the roof of 
Whitson well tidied up by eight o’clock. 
It still looked far from luxurious, but at 
least it was clean. There was a faint odor of ben- 
zine to be detected, but there was always that, and 
no amount of airing seemed to entirely banish it. 
Toby sat down to study at a little after eight, but 
for the first half-hour he was continually peering 
around in dubious appraisal of his efforts or push- 
ing back his chair and arising to turn the arm-chair 
a little more to the left, at which angle its dilapi- 
dated seat was more in shadow, or wedge the sag- 
ging door of the wardrobe more firmly shut or 
work some similar improvement. After he finally 
did become absorbed in study it seemed only a 
few minutes before nine o’clock struck. 

Mr. Loring was very prompt, for Toby had 
only time to rearrange the few articles on the top 
of the bureau for the fifth or sixth time when his 


212 


TOBY ENTERTAINS 


knock came at the door. Alfred Loring was 
twenty-five or -six years of age and of medium 
height. His brown eyes had a disconcerting fash- 
ion of twinkling merrily even when the other fea- 
tures of a good-looking face proclaimed gravity, 
as though life was much more of a joke than he 
wanted you to know. When Toby had some- 
what embarrassedly conducted him to the seat of 
honor and subsided into the straight chair by the 
table, the visitor opened the conversation in a 
most unexpected way. 

“ This where you do your tailoring. Tucker? ” 
he asked. 

“ Y-yes, sir,” Toby stammered. He had 
tried so hard to hide every trace of that occupa- 
tion, too! The gas-stove, its six feet of tubing 
wound around it, reposed under the bed and the 
irons and other things were in the bottom of the 
wardrobe. He wondered how Mr. Loring knew 
about it, not surmising that the coach had natur- 
ally enough sought to learn all he could of Toby 
before his visit. “ I don’t do any tailoring,” cor- 
rected Toby. “ I just clean clothes and press 
them.” 

“ Get much to do? ” 


213 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Lots sometimes, sir. In winter I don’t get 
so much. Fellows don’t seem to mess their 
things up in winter. They wear sweaters and old 
trousers a good deal.” 

“ So you try to liven trade by offering special in- 
ducements? I see. Well, that shows you have 
a business head, Tucker.” 

Evidently Mr. Loring had seen The Scholiast. 
Toby hadn’t thought of that likelihood. Of 
course, he wasn’t ashamed of cleaning clothes, but 
Mr. Loring was such a correct, immaculately-at- 
tired gentleman — what Toby a year ago would 
have called a “ dude” — that he might lose inter- 
est in a fellow who had to perform such labor to 
eke out his expenses. Toby viewed Mr. Loring 
doubtfully and was silent. 

“ When I was here there was a fellow named 
Middlebury who used to make rather a good 
thing of darning socks. He was a wonder at it. 
I’ve never seen a woman do it better, by Jove! 
Charged two cents a pair, I think it was, and was 
as busy as a hen. Nice chap, Middlebury was. 
Honor Man two years and rowed on the crew. 
There isn’t much a fellow can do here, though, to 
earn money, and you were clever to think of the 
214 


TOBY ENTERTAINS 


cleaning and pressing business. At college it’s ra- 
ther different. All sorts of things there for a 
chap ; waiting on table, looking after furnaces and 
shoveling snow and cutting grass, taking subscrip- 
tions, selling things — no end to them.” Coach 
Loring looked around the little room, but not at 
all critically. “ I don’t believe I was ever in this 
room, all the time I was at school here.” 

“ Where did you room, sir? ” asked Toby. 

“ Clarke first, and then Dudley. I remember 
young Thompson roomed on the floor below. 
Number 20, I think it was. I wonder what be- 
came of Arthur. Funny how you lose track of 
fellows after you get away. They don’t provide 
you with many luxuries up here. Tucker.” 

“ No, sir, but the rent isn’t very much, you see.” 

“ This is your first year, you said, didn’t you? 
Second class? ” 

“ Third, sir. Maybe I ought to be in the sec- 
ond. I’m nearly sixteen — ” 

“ You look fully that. I wouldn’t worry. I 
didn’t get out of here until I was eighteen, and 
I’ve never regretted it. What do you do besides 
hockey. Tucker? Go in for football any? ” 

“ I tried for the second last Fall, but I didn’t 


. 215 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


make it. They said* I was too light, but I guess it 
was because I didn’t play well enough.” 

Mr. Loring laughed. “ You seem honest with 
yourself, my boy! Now, about hockey. Like it, 
do you? ” 

“ Very much, sir.” 

“ Did you want to play goal or did some one 
just put you there? ” 

“ I was put,” answered Toby, smiling. “ I 
didn’t know much about it when I started to play. 
I tried being a forward, but I couldn’t seem to get 
the hang of it. I don’t — don’t skate very 
fancy.” 

“ Well, I don’t remember that I did,” was the 
reply. “ But I managed to get around pretty 
well and they made me captain finally. So that 
needn’t bother you. Tucker.” 

“ Did you play goal, sir? ” 

“ Point. Vinton was goal then. And — let 
me see — Felder was cover point. And then 
there was Roeder and Durfee and Pennimore — 
It was Gerald Pennimore who gave the cup we 
play Broadwood for every year. Or, rather, it 
was Gerald’s father.” 

“The Pennimore Cup? I’ve seen some of 
216 


TOBY ENTERTAINS 


them in the Trophy Room in the gym. Did you 
beat Broadwood when you were captain, Mr. Lor- 
ing?” 

“ I think so. By Jove, I don’t remember now! 
Hold on, though 1 Yes, we did win. It was Ger- 
ald’s shot in the last minute or so that gave us the 
game. We lost the year before that, though, I 
believe.” He shook his head, smiling whimsi- 
cally. “ It used to be all terribly important then, 
Tucker, but it doesn’t seem now to have mattered 
much who won 1 Only three years ago I wanted 
to drown myself because the football team I cap- 
tained was beaten in its big game. I don’t be- 
lieve any fellow was ever much more unhappy. I 
thought the world had dropped into space or the 
sky fallen in or something. It’s a wonderful thing 
to be young. Tucker, and have enthusiasm. Take 
my advice, my boy, and get all the honest fun out 
of life you can. First thing you know you’re 
twenty-five years old and you’ve reached that aw- 
ful sta;ge when you’d rather sit in front of a fire 
than put on spikes and run three miles through a 
snow-storm for the honor of Yardley 1 Well, this 
isn’t hockey, is it? Do you care enough about the 
game. Tucker, to take a lot of trouble and work 
217 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

hard and be a real, genuine, rattling good goal- 
keeper?’’ 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Toby earnestly and ea- 
gerly. 

“ Well, I think you could be if you tried real 
hard. I like your style. You remind me of old 
Dan Vinton. He used to stand up there in the same 
cool, quiet way. Looked as if nothing mattered 
a bit to him, but I’ve seen him stop two pucks at 
the same time in practice. Coolness is what 
counts. Tucker, that and keeping your two eyes 
glued right to the puck every moment.” 

“ Yes, sir, and after that? ” 

“ Nothing after that but just practice. Get in 
front of your net and let some one hammer away at 
you, some one who can serve them all styles, high, 
low and every other way, and see how many you 
can stop. Take a half an hour of that every day. 
Tucker. Have you a spare hour in the morn- 
ing? ” 

” Yes, sir,” replied Toby dubiously, “ but I’m 
afraid I don’t know any one who’d be willing to 
do that.” 

“ I’ll find you .^ome one, then. A half-hour of 
shooting wouldn’t do any one of those forwards 
218 


TOBY ENTERTAINS 

a bit of harm/’ added Coach Loring dryly. “ An- 
other thing is this, Tucker. Study the man who’s 
making the shot. See how he’s going to do it. 
Watch his stick. See whether he’s going to scoop 
the puck at you or lift it. Learn to guess before- 
hand where the puck is coming and how it’s com- 
ing. And don’t depend on your hands to stop it. 
Sometimes a hand’s all right, but your body’s the 
surest thing. Learn to be quick in getting from 
one side of the cage to the other. Don’t have 
your skates too sharp, because you want to use 
them quickly. You ought to follow that puck ev- 
ery second, even if it’s down at the other goal. 
Get in the habit of watching it. And never rely 
on some one else to make the stop. You may 
think that your cover point or your point is going 
to do it, but don’t take it for granted. Always be 
ready in case he fails. If the opponent with the 
puck gets by your outer defense don’t get rattled. 
Just remember and tell yourself that the opponent 
is every bit as anxious as you are. If you’re nerv- 
ous, he’s more so. Keep steady, get ready and 
watch ! Half the time he will shoot badly just be- 
cause so much depends on his shooting well. It 
seems in hockey that the better your chance the 
•219 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


poorer your shot. Don’t let any one draw you oiut 
from goal, Tucker, ever. It’s a good plan to go 
out once in a blue moon, maybe, but do it when the 
other fellow isn’t expecting you to. Don’t let him 
plan it. If the man with the puck is past your 
point and there’s no one near to engage him, it’s 
sometimes a mighty good play to rush out on him. 
But do it before he can get the puck away and 
keep your body between the puck and the net. 
Vinton had a way of sliding out sort of crouched 
down and with his arms out. He looked like an 
angry hen, but he used to spoil many a shot that 
way. There, that’s all I know about playing goal. 
Tucker, and maybe some of it isn’t right! ” Mr. 
Loring ended with a laugh. 

“ I’m awfully much obliged to you,” said Toby 
earnestly. “ And I’d like mighty well to have 
some one shoot for me every day, sir. Only I 
don’t know many fellows very well. Deering has 
a recitation when I’m free and so he couldn’t do it, 
you see.” 

“ I’ll find some one. What time in the morn- 
ing could you be at the rink? ” 

“ Between eleven and twelve, sir.” 

“ All right. You be ready for the day after to- 


220 


TOBY ENTERTAINS 

imorrow,” was the reply. “ If I can’t find any one 
else I’ll have a go at it myself. Good-night, 
Tucker.” Mr. Loring held out his hand. “ I 
hope I haven’t bored you with my chatter.” 

“ Oh, no, sir ! Why, I — I’ve had a — a fine 
time, sir ! ” 

“ Have you? Good stuff I Now don’t forget 
my boy, that you’re to work hard. I’m going to 
help you. We all will. I want to see you in 
front of that net three weeks from next Saturday.” 

“ That — that’s the Broadwood game, sir, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes. Does that scare you? ” 

“ No, sir, it doesn’t scare me, but I’m afraid I 
won’t be good enough.” 

“ In three weeks, my boy, if you buckle down 
to it you’ll be quite good enough. At least, you’ll 
be as good or better than any other goal that’s in 
sight now. If Henry comes back in time — ” 

“ Yes, sir, I know,” murmured Toby. 

“ Know what?” 

“ That he will play goal if he gets off proba- 
tion.” 

“ Hm ; well, if he does it will be your fault, 
Tucker.” 


221 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ My fault, sir? You mean that — that — 

“ I mean that if you get along the way I expect 
you to it won’t matter a mite to us whether Henry 
gets back or not! You tell yourself every day, 
Tucker, that you are going to make a better goal- 
tend than Henry or Lamson. Then prove you’re 
right. Good-night! ” 

After the door had closed behind his visitor 
Toby did a most undignified thing. He took a run 
across the worn old carpet and plunged headfirst 
onto the bed. It was certainly taking chances, but 
the bed, although it rattled and groaned and 
creaked in all its joints, withstood the assault. 
After that Toby wriggled his feet to the floor, sat 
up on the side of the cot and, with hands plunged 
deep into his pockets and gaze fixed on the oppo- 
site wall, muttered Gee! ” ecstatically. And af- 
ter a moment he said it again: Gee!** Just 

like that. 


CHAPTER XVI 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 

T here was no opportunity to tell Arnold 
of the wonderful news until the next 
morning after breakfast. Then he 
pulled his chum upstairs to Number 12 and re- 
counted the whole stupendous happening to him. 
Arnold was delighted, but not as delighted as 
Toby thought he should have been. And the rea- 
son appeared a minute later when Arnold said 
doubtfully : 

“ I think myself you’ve got the making of a 
mighty good goal, T. Tucker, only it seems to 
me you’ll need a good deal more practice than 
you can get this year. I wouldn’t be too set up 
over what Loring says. Of course he was right 
about your being a good one and all that, but 
Loring is sort of — of visionary, I guess. I 
mean — ” 

“ I don’t think he’s visionary at all,” replied 
Toby indignantly. “ He talks mighty practical 
223 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

horse-sense, Arn. How do you mean, vision- 
ary?” 

“ Well, he’s great for what he calls ‘ tactical 
playing ’ : believes in planning everything out be- 
forehand and all that. Any one knows that you 
can’t plan a hockey game, because you can’t tell 
beforehand what’s going to develop. Frank says, 
too, that Loring wasn’t much of a player when he 
was In college. He never made the varsity seven, 
anyway. He was just substitute one year, or 
maybe two.” 

“ He was football captain, though,” defended 
Toby. 

“ I know that, but being football captain doesn’t 
make you a good hockey coach, does It? ” 

“ Maybe he was too busy to make the hockey 
team. If a fellow Is captain of the football team 
he wouldn’t have much time for other things, it 
seems to me. And he was captain of his hockey 
team here at Yardley, because he told me so.” 

“ Oh, well, they didn’t play hockey then as they 
do now. The game’s just about twice as far ad- 
vanced as It was then. I guess that’s the trouble 
with Loring. He’s still trying to teach the old- 
style game. Frank says — ” 

2i24 . 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


“ What the dickens does Frank know about 
it? ” asked Toby, a trifle impatiently. 

“ Well, he knows more about it than you do, 
doesn’t he ? Anyway, all I’m trying to tell you is 
that Loring may have promised more than — 
than he can deliver. When he tells you that by 
practicing hard and all that you can make yourself 
a better goal-tend than Henry he’s stretching 
things a bit. He wanted to say something nice, I 
guess. Or maybe he wanted to make you work 
harder. Frank says Loring wasn’t asked up here 
to coach the seven this year. He just came. He 
coached last year and we got licked to a frazzle. 
Crowell wanted some one else, but there didn’t 
seem to be any one, and Loring offered to 
come — ” 

“ I think he’s a mighty good coach,” said Toby 
warmly, “ no matter what Frank Lamson or any 
other fellow says. And I don’t see that Frank is 
in position to know more about it than I am, for 
that matter, Arn.” 

“ You won’t deny that he’s had more hockey 
experience, I suppose ? ” 

“No, but — ” Toby stopped. He had al- 
most said that Frank’s experiences hadn’t done 
225 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


him an awful lot of good. Instead; “But I 
don’t think that having played last year makes a 
— a critic of him. Maybe it wasn’t Mr. Loring’s 
fault that we lost to Broadwood last year. A 
coach can’t turn out a winning team unless he has 
the material.” 

“ Our material was all right. It was just as 
good as this year’s, every bit. Loring’s a back- 
number, that’s all. Frank was saying the other 
day that if Crowell had got hold — ” 

“Oh, bother what Frank says!” interrupted 
Toby, peevishly. “ You make me tired, always 
quoting Frank Lamson, Arn. You’d think he 
was the only fellow in school I He isn’t any bet- 
ter judge of Mr. Loring’s coaching than you or 
me.” 

Arnold flushed. “ How long,” he asked, 
“ since you sat yourself up as a hockey authority? ” 

“ I don’t. But I know as much hockey as 
Frank Lamson does right this minute, even if he 
has played the game longer.” 

“ Yes, you do ! You’re getting a swelled head, 
Toby, that’s the matter with you. You think that 
just because Loring patted you on the head and 
told you you were a great little goal-tend that you 
226 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


know it all. When fellows who have played the 
game for years^say that Loring’s no good as a 
coach — ” 

“ No one does say so but Lamson ! And what 
he says is piffle. And you can tell him I said so, 
if you like ! ” 

“ It wouldn’t bother him a bit,” answered Ar- 
nold angrily. “ But if you can’t speak decently of 
folks you’d better keep your mouth shut, Toby. 
Frank’s a friend of mine, and a friend of yours, 
too, and — ” 

Toby laughed loudly. “ A friend of mine, is 
he ? That’s a good one ! ” 

“ He certainly is ! Has he ever done anything 
that wasn’t friendly? ” 

“ Has he ever done anything that was? ” 

“ Lots!” 

“ Piffle!” 

Oh, all right. Have it your way, Mr. Smart 
Aleck! Frank — ” 

“ You ask Frank Lamson if he was a friend of 
mine last Friday night,” challenged Toby hotly. 
“ If I had half a dozen friends like him I’d be — 
be in the poor house ! ” 

“ What do you mean by that? What did 
227 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Frank do? Go on and tell me now! You’ve 
hinted. Out with it.” 

But Toby, suddenly sobered, shook his head. 
“ Never mind,” he muttered. “ Ask him if you 
want to know. I guess he wouldn’t tell, though.” 
He laughed mirthlessly. 

“ That’s a cowardly trick,” said Arnold in dis- 
gust. “ You make an accusation against a fellow 
and then refuse to follow it up. Whether Frank 
is a friend of yours or not, you certainly aren’t a 
friend to him. And you aren’t a friend to me, 
either, when you talk like that. If you weren’t 
a cad you’d come out and say what you mean.” 

“ Ask him,” said Toby doggedly. 

“ I will ask him I ” blazed Arnold. “ And if 
I was Frank I’d — I’d — ” 

“What?” demanded Toby. “Come back 
and steal my clothes this time, I suppose! You 
tell him I’m putting my money in the bank now 
where he can’t get it ! ” 

“What! Look here, Toby Tucker, do you 
mean to tell me that you’re accusing Frank of 
stealing that money of yours? Are you plumb 
crazy? ” 

“ No, it’s you who are crazy! You think so 
228 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


much of Frank that you believe anything he tells 
you. He couldn’t do anything wrong, according 
to your idea. Well, ask him where he got the 
quarter with the initials cut in it! And ask him 
where he got the dollar bill with the court-plaster 
on it! He thinks, because I haven’t said any- 
thing, that I don’t know. Well, I do know. I’ve 
got all the proof I need, and if I told fellows what 
I know — ” 

“Look here, Toby!” cried Arnold sternly. 
“ Cut that out ! ” 

“Oh, of course! Anything that Lamson 
does — ” 

“Leave Frank alone! Look after your own 
— your own conduct ! Accusing a fellow like 
Frank of stealing! I never heard anything so 
rotten! Or so silly, either! Cut it out, I tell 
you ! ” 

“ Sure! Maybe you’d like me to send him a 
pocket-book to keep it in? He swiped my money 
and I’m not to speak of it for fear I might hurt 
his feelings!” Toby laughed shrilly. “That’s 
a good one ! ” 

Arnold strode to the door, with blazing eyes, 
and threw it wide open. “ Get out of here, 
229 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Toby,” he demanded, “ and stay out until you can 
talk decently of my friends. You needn’t come 
back until you apologize. I mean it! ” 

Toby’s heart sank for an instant, but a smarting 
sense of injury forced a laugh and a sneer to his 
lips. “ One excuse is as good as another to get 
rid of me, Arn. I’ve known all along that you 
were — were tired of me. Frank Lamson — ” 

“ Let Frank alone! I’ve told you once! Get 
out or I’ll put you out ! ” 

“ Try it ! ” dared Toby. “ I wish you would ! ” 
Then, as Arnold only stood motionless with his 
hand on the door-knob, Toby shrugged his shoul- 
ders and walked past him. On the threshold he 
paused for a final fling. “ I’m glad to go,” he 
said hotly. “ I don’t care to stay where I’m not 
wanted. But if you wait for me to apologize 
you’ll wait until your hair’s gray, Arnold Deering. 
And, considering the way you love him and stand 
up for him, I think the least Lamson can do is to 
divvy up with you on that money he stole. Or 
perhaps he has already? ” 

The door, with Arnold’s weight against it, 
thrust Toby into the corridor and closed with a 
crash. Toby laughed ironically and, his head 
230 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


high and a disk of red in each cheek, climbed the 
stairs to the hall above. In his room, he moved 
about for several minutes, picking things up and 
laying them down again quite unconsciously. He 
whistled a gay little tune until he suddenly found 
himself seated in a chair with his hands in his 
trousers pockets, his legs sprawled out before him 
and a horrible sinking feeling inside him. The 
whistle had stopped and he was staring miserably 
at the tops of the bare trees outside the window. 
He was sorry. 

Being sorry is a most absorbing occupation. A 
fellow can spend heaps of time being sorry and 
never realize it. And that’s just what Toby did. 
How long he sat there, sprawled disconsolately in 
the' chair, alternately blaming himself for what 
had happened and then Arnold, hating Frank with 
a new and perfectly soul-filling hatred, I don’t 
know. But I do know that when a sense of the 
passage of time edged in past the varied and war- 
ring emotions and he looked at the tin clock on the 
bureau it was exactly eight minutes to nine and he 
had missed chapel ! 

To miss chapel without z good and sufficient ex- 
cuse was a bad piece of business for a scholarship 
231 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


student, and the fact drove all thought of Frank 
and Arnold and the quarrel from his mind. 
There was a bare chance, one chance in ten, per- 
haps, that his absence wouldn’t be discovered, but 
dare he risk it? At Yardley you were put on 
your honor as regarded attendance at chapel. 
Should you stay away you were expected to report 
the fact to the office and tender an explanation. 
But, thought Toby, what explanation could he 
offer? Doctor Collins would scarcely accept the 
true one as sufficient, and, if it came to concocting 
a lie, why he might just as well say nothing and 
trust to luck. Failure to report his absence would 
be no more dishonorable than lying about it! 
Toby studied the quandary troubledly for a good 
ten minutes. Then he pulled his cap on, thrust 
his hands determinedly into his pockets and made 
straight for the Office. 

Chapel was over by the time he entered Oxford 
and the fellows were streaming down the stairs. 
Toby turned to the right and strode valiantly 
along the corridor and opened the door with the 
ground-glass panel and the inscription in formid- 
able black lettering: “Office of the Principal.” 
The outer office was a big, strongly-lighted room 
232 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


with its walls hidden by shelves and filing cabinets. 
A heavy carpet covered the floor and at each end 
of the room a big broad-topped desk stood. One 
of these was presided over by the school secretary. 
He glanced up perfunctorily as Toby closed the 
door behind him and nodded to a chair. Toby 
sat down and waited. From a further room 
marked “ Private ’’ came the sound of low voices. 
The secretary’s pen scratched on and on in the 
silence. The outer door opened again and a small 
boy with a scared countenance entered, was chal- 
lenged by the secretary’s glance and settled down 
into the chair next to Toby, trying his best to 
assume an appearance of nonchalance. Toby 
wondered if he too had cut chapel. Presently the 
secretary plunged his pen into a bowl of shot and 
looked toward Toby. 

“Well, sir?” 

“ I want to see Doctor Collins, please.” 

“ Summons? ” 

“ Sir?” 

“ Are you summoned? ” 

“No, sir, not yet. I mean — ” Toby floun- 
dered. The ghost of a smile crossed the secre- 
tary’s face. 


233 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ What do you wish to see him about, please? ” 

“ I missed chapel this morning, sir, and — ” 

“Oh! What’s the name?” 

“ Tucker, Third Class.” 

“Excuse?” The secretary had drawn a slip 
of paper to him and recovered his pen. 

“I — I forgot, sir,” answered Toby, lamely. 

The secretary’s eye-brows arched. “ That’s a 
novel excuse. Tucker,” he said dryly. He pulled 
out a drawer at his right, ran his fingers over the 
card index there and finally paused. “ Tobias 
Tucker?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ You hold a Ripley Scholarship, I believe? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The Secretary’s pen moved leisurely across the 
slip of paper. 

“ That’s the best excuse you can offer, is it? ” 
he asked, without looking up. 

“ I was — was upset by something,” answered 
Toby, struggling to make a good case for himself 
of very poor material. “ I didn’t know it was 
so late, sir. When I found out what time it was 
it was eight minutes to nine. I’m sorry.” 

“ Hm, being sorry is of so very little use, 

234 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


Tucker. Ever think of that? After this, Fd ad- 
vise you to do your being sorry beforehand. It 
saves a lot of trouble sometimes. That’s all. 
You’ll hear from the Office In due time.” 

“I couldn’t see Doctor Collins, sir?” asked 
Toby wistfully. 

“ The Principal does not see students without 
appointments until after two o’clock. Tucker. 
You can see him then If you like, but frankly I 
don’t think It would do you any good. If he 
wants to see you he will let you know.” 

“ Yes, sir.” Toby went out. After all, he 
told himself outside, scowling challengingly at one 
of the plaster statues that loomed ghost-like along 
the corridor, he had done what was honorable. 
He found a trifle of consolation In that. What- 
ever was to be, was to be, and there was nothing 
more he could do In the matter. His record until 
to-day had been good and he didn’t believe that 
faculty would deprive him of that scholarship for 
just missing one chapel. He was fairly cheerful 
by the time he entered Whitson again and if luck 
hadn’t ordained that he should almost collide with 
Arnold at the top of the first flight he might have 
kept right on feeling cheerful for awhile longer. 

235 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


But sight of Arnold brought back recollection of 
that other trouble. Arnold drew aside, in stony 
silence, and Toby, after one startled glance, 
stepped aside and passed. Homer Wilkins, be- 
hind Arnold, said: “ Hello, Toby! What’s the 
rush? ” But Toby made no answer and went on 
up the next flight, oppressed by a queer, empty 
sort of feeling. There was nothing to do until 
nine-thirty, unless he chose to rub up his algebra 
a little or press the trousers that Will Curran had 
left during his absence. Toby didn’t feel like 
studying, though, and, after reading the note that 
Curran had pinned to the garment, he only crum- 
pled it up and tossed it in the waste basket and 
laid the trousers down again. At another time 
Curran’s facetious communication would have won 
a smile, but to-day it seemed sadly dreary. 

Curran had written: 

Tucker’s Cleansing and Pressing Parlors, 
Dear Sir: 

Please heat your little iron 
And press these trousers nice. 

ni call for them this evening 
And bring the stated price. 

Don’t crease them much above the knees, 

236 


ABSENT FROM CHAPEL 


For that’s against the style, 

But press the cuffs down very flat, 

So they will stay awhile. 

William Shakespeare Curran.” 


Awful rot, Toby thought. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE GRAY CARD 

T here Vas no summons from the Office 
that day, and Toby began to take hope. 
By evening he was in quite an equable 
state of mind, thanks, perhaps, to an hour and a 
half of hard work on the rink. There’s nothing 
much better than outdoor exercise to restore a 
fellow’s mind to a normal condition. And for 
one twenty-minute period Toby had played goal 
against the second seven and for an hour before 
that had taken part in a hard, brisk practice, his 
visit to the bench having been of a scant ten-min- 
ute duration. Animated by the desperate resolve 
to wreak vengeance on Frank Lamson by beating 
him out for the position of first choice goal, Toby 
had worked harder than he ever had before, with 
the result that his playing had been almost of the 
spectacular kind during the time he had guarded 
the first team’s goal. Henry, who had been at the 
rink looking on a bit disconsolately, had told him 
238 


THE GRAY CARD 


afterwards, enthusiasm struggling against depres- 
sion, that he had “ knocked them down in great 
shape. Tucker, my lad, and no bally mistake about 
it ! ” And Toby had gone back to the gymnasium 
feeling a bit proud of himself and hugging the 
thought that revenge against Frank Lamson was 
certain and overwhelming. And then, In the up- 
per hall, he had run plumb against Frank ! 

That Arnold had said nothing to Frank of 
Toby’s accusation was at once evident, for Frank 
hailed the younger boy almost cordially. “ Great 
stuff, Toby! ” he said. “ You and I are going to 
have a real race, eh? By ginger, old scout, I 
didn’t know you had it in you I ” The accompany- 
ing laugh suggested, however, that he was not se- 
riously disturbed. Toby colored, momentarily 
embarrassed. The last thing he wanted from 
Frank was congratulation 1 

“ Thanks,” he said stiffly. “ Glad you like it.” 
“ Well, don’t get grouchy about It! ” exclaimed 
Frank. “ Any one would think I’d insulted you. 
Go to the dickens, will you? ” 

Toby passed him without response, trying hard 
to look haughty and dignified. That he wasn’t 
particularly successful In his effort was suggested 

239 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


by Frank’s amused laugh behind him. Later, on 
his way to the showers, Toby encountered Arnold. 
It seemed, he thought as he pulled the curtain 
across and turned the cold water on with more 
than usual disregard of results, that he was always 
running into Arn ! After he had recovered from 
the first breath-taking shock of the shower he 
grumbled: “ And he looks like he thought I was 
a worm, too, confound him I Any one would sup- 
pose that k was my fault! I had a perfect right 
to tell the truth about Frank. He did steal that 
money from me, and Arn’s saying he didn’t doesn’t 
alter the fact a bit. Maybe when he finds that 
Frank isn’t the fine hero he thinks he is he’ll come 
off his high horse. But he needn’t think I’m go- 
ing to crawl, for I’m not. If he waits for me to 
apologize he will wait a mighty long while 1 ” 
Coach Loring came to him while he was dress- 
ing. “ Beech is going to practice with you in the 
morning. Tucker,” he said. At eleven. He 
will tell you what days he’s free. Let me know 
when he can’t be there and I’ll arrange with some 
one else — or do it myself. I noticed you used 
your body more to-day in stopping shots. It’s the 
best plan. Keep it up. Tucker.” 

240 


THE GRAY CARD 


But in spite of all this encouragement Toby 
wasn’t really happy that evening. Supper had 
been a trying affair. Of course neither he nor 
Arnold had even so much as glanced at each other, 
much less spoken, and he was conscious all dur- 
ing the meal of the amused or inquiring glances 
of the other occupants of Table 14. He won- 
dered whether he could get himself moved to an- 
other table, but abandoned the idea the next mo- 
ment. He had done nothing and wasn’t going to 
run away as though he had. If Arnold didn’t 
like eating with him, why, let Arnold move. He 
put in an hour of study and then pressed Will Cur- 
ran’s trousers, and a suit belonging to another boy, 
and tried very hard to concoct a rhymed reply to 
Curran’s missive. But rhyming was not Toby’s 
forte and he gave it up finally and climbed into 
bed to lie awake a long while in the darkness, 
thinking rather unhappy thoughts about life. 

Grover Beech was awaiting him at the rink the 
next morning at a few minutes past eleven and, 
after they had shooed a half-dozen preparatory 
class boys from the ice, they set to work. Toby 
liked the long and lank second team captain and 
his respect for the latter’s skating and shooting 
241 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


prowess increased remarkably during that fifty 
minutes of work. 

“ I don’t know just what the silly idea is,” Beech 
remarked as he dropped the puck and circled back 
toward the middle of the rink with it, “ but here 
goes. Tucker! ” Beech tore down toward goal, 
zig-zagging, playing the puck first on one side and 
then on the other, dug his skates when a few yards 
away, swept past and, at the last moment, flicked 
the disk cunningly past Toby’s skates. Toby 
fished it out of the net ruefully, and Beech laughed. 

“Keep your eyes open. Tucker!” he called, 
skating backward and dragging the puck in the 
crook of his blade. “ Loring says he wants you 
to have practice, son, and I mean to give it to you. 
So watch your eye, boy! ” 

“ Let her come ! ” laughed Toby. 

And come she did, a long shot that skimmed 
through the air a foot above the ice and made 
straight for the center of the net. Toby silently 
applauded that shot even as he bent and brought 
his leg-guards together. There was a thud and 
the disk bounded yards away. Beech, who had 
followed it up, tried to snap it in, but he was skat- 
ing too fast and the puck struck the side post. 

242 






i( 


LET HER COME 


LAUGHED TOBY 










THE GRAY CARD 


“ Good stop,” he applauded. “ Thought I had 
you then.” 

“ It was a peach of a shot,” called Toby. 
** Give me some more like that, will you ? Those 
are the sort I want to learn to stop.” 

Beech obliged, but lift shots weren’t successful 
for him, and presently he went back to his first 
style, that of skating in close to goal and snapping 
the puck so quickly to one side or the other that it 
was difficult for Toby to move fast enough to 
block it. Once, being caught too far to one side of 
the cage, he tried to stop the puck with his stick 
blade and learned a lesson. For the puck jumped 
over the blade and rolled to the back of the net. 
Three times out of a dozen or so shots. Beech tal- 
lied in that fashion. Then Toby worked out the 
solution. The next time, when Beech came swing- 
ing up — he could shoot almost as well left- 
handed as right — Toby dashed out to meet him, 
a proceeding so unexpected to Beech that he al- 
most forgot to shoot. When he did the puck 
bounded off Toby’s knee and skimmed off to the 
side of the rink. 

“ Huh I ” grunted Beech. “ I wondered how 
long you’d let me do that. Just the same, you 

243 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


don’t want to try that Ifick very often, Tucker, or 
you’ll come to grief. If there’d been some one 
with me I’d simply have passed, you see.” 

They stopped a minute and talked that over. 
Beech seemed to have a good deal of hockey sense, 
Toby thought, and the older boy decided that 
young Tucker was a pretty brainy lad. Toward 
the last of the practice Mr. Loring appeared and 
watched interestedly. 

“ Beech,” he said finally, “ take some shots from 
about five yards away, please. You don’t need to 
skate. Work right around in a half-circle shoot- 
ing from the different angles. Let’s see what 
Tucker’s weakest point is.” 

It developed that Toby’s principal weakness 
was in meeting shots made from that arc of the 
circle lying to his left. In other words, as Mr. 
Loring pointed out, an opposing right wing would 
stand a better chance of scoring through Toby 
than a left wing would. “ You’re right-handed, 
Tucker,” he said. “ You can’t afford to be. 
Learn to use your left hand and the left side gen- 
erally as easily and quickly as your right. Try it 
again. Beech.” And then, after Toby had 
stopped the puck none too cleverly, he followed 
244 


THE GRAY CARD 


with: “ See what I mean, Tucker? When the 
puck comes at you from your right or from the 
center you meet it nicely, but when it comes to you 
from where Beech is shooting you have trouble. 
You don’t cross as naturally from right to left as 
you do vice versa and you don’t handle your body 
as well. To-morrow you’d better pay a good deal 
of attention to shots from that side. Practice 
swinging across from the right post to the left. If 
you keep your knee against the post and push out 
with it when you want to cross you’ll get a quicker 
start. Try it now. That’s pretty good. But 
you favor your right too much. A good goal- 
tend mustn’t know one side from the other. It 
wouldn’t take long for an enemy to discover your 
weakness. Tucker, and they’d pound you from the 
right — that is, your left — till the cows come 
home. Look here, what about those gloves? 
Didn’t you say you were going to get some decent 
ones?” 

“ Yes, sir, but I — I haven’t had time yet.” 

“ Well, get at it, man I Those things aren’t fit 
to wear. Your fingers would freeze numb on a 
cold day. Better attend to it to-day if you can. 
It’s five minutes to twelve, fellows. You’d better 

245 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

stop now. Can you come again to-morrow, 
Beech?” 

“ Yes, sir, to-morrow and Thursday, but not 
Friday; nor Saturday either.” 

“ Never mind about Saturday. We’ll leave 
Saturday out. I’ll take your place Friday, unless 
I have to run back to New, York that day. What 
I want to do. Beech, is to make a real corking goal 
out of Tucker. He’s got a sort of natural style 
of playing it that looks good to me. Notice it? ” 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Loring,” responded Beech 
doubtfully. “ But I know that Tucker can cer- 
tainly stop them in good style. He’s had me skat- 
ing my head off, sir, before you came.” 

“ Stopping them when there’s only one man 
against you isn’t so hard,” said Toby, tugging at 
the straps of his leg-guards. “ It’s when three or 
four are skating down on you that the trouble be- 
gins ! ” 

“ Only one of the four can shoot. Tucker. 
Remember that. Keep your eye glued to the 
puck, my boy, and it won’t make much difference 
if there are twenty at you. It’s the last man who 
counts.” 

They walked back to the gymnasium together 
246 


THE GRAY CARD 


and there Mr. Loring left them. As Toby and 
Beech hurried into their street clothes Beech said: 
“ Some of the fellows think Loring doesn’t know 
his business, but I don’t see what their kick is. I 
guess he knows as much hockey as he needs. I 
like him, don’t you? ” 

“ Awfully,” agreed Toby emphatically. 
“ They say that he was responsible for losing the 
Broadwood game last year. Did you play 
then?” 

“ Not on the first, no. But there’s no sense in 
blaming Loring for the loss of that game. He 
did the best he could, I guess. The trouble was 
that Broadwood had a team that played all around 
us. They skated better and shot better and 
checked harder. They played like a team and we 
played like seven individuals. We didn’t do so 
badly the first half, but after that Broadwood got 
a goal on a fluke — Henry kicked the puck into 
his own goal — and that gave them a lead of two, 
and we went up in the air and played shinney all 
the rest of the game. At that they only licked 
us seven to three; or maybe it was eight to four; 
something like that. I hope to goodness we sock 
it to ’em good and hard this time, though. He 
247 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

evidently expects you to play goal in that game, 
Tucker.” 

“ I hope I’ll be good enough to,” replied Toby. 
“I — I’d like it awfully.” 

“ Of course you would,” laughed the other. 
“ I’d like it myself. I’ve been playing two years 
already — three, counting this — and I’ve never 
got nearer the first team than I am now.” 

“ I don’t see why,” said Toby. “ You shoot 
wonderfully, I think.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know.” Beech shrugged. “ I 
play pretty fair sometimes and then the next day 
I don’t. I have pretty good fun with the second, 
though, and it’s something to be captain of that. 
I’ve no kick coming. We’d better beat it. 
Tucker. There goes twelve o’clock! ” 

They dashed upstairs and out the door, Toby 
with one shoe-lace flapping in the breeze, and 
sprinted across to Oxford, Beech winning the race 
with six yards to spare. 

The morning practice was continued the next 
day and the next, and Toby profited far more 
than he had dared hope to. In the afternoons he 
had varying fortune, one day spending most of 
the playing time on the bench and once going 
248 


THE GRAY CARD 


in for the second period against the second. It 
was always Beech that Toby feared the most now, 
for the rivalry developed in the morning practice 
moved both to extra exertions, and, while Toby 
knew Beech’s attack pretty well, it was equally true 
that Beech knew Toby’s weaknesses. As far as 
Toby could see, Crowell still favored Frank Lam- 
son for the position. In fact, Toby was fairly 
sure that if Coach Loring hadn’t been there Cro- 
well would have left him on the bench most days. 
Frank’s playing grew neither better nor worse. 
He was brilliant at times, but never what could be 
called steady, and he had a bad habit of losing his 
temper after a tally had been scored on him and 
playing In an indifferent, swashbuckling sort of 
fashion for minutes afterwards. Henry was still 
absent from work and rumor now had it that he 
had virtually given up hope of reinstatement in 
time for further playing this season. Toby was 
sorry for him, but he wouldn’t have been human 
had he mourned over-much. With Henry out of 
it, and only Frank Lamson to contend with, Toby’s 
chance of making the coveted position In time 
for the Broadwood game brightened each day. 

There was no morning practice on Friday, for, 
249 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


although Toby went to the rink dressed for play, 
Mr. Loring failed to show up. Toby took part in 
a weird contest with eight preparatory class fel- 
lows and had a good time, but he regretted wast- 
ing that hour. Later, in the afternoon, it ap- 
peared that Mr. Loring had had to go home and 
would not be able to get back until the first of the 
next week. Toby was sorry to hear that, for he 
had secretly hoped that the coach would let him 
get in for a part of the Nordham game the next 
afternoon, perhaps for a full period. With Mr. 
Loring absent, however, Toby felt pretty certain 
that he would view that contest from the bench. 
Later, returning to his room at dusk, he found 
something that made him wonder whether he 
would even sit on the bench to-morrow ! 

The something was a gray card, one of the 
printed forms used by the Office on which only the 
name, day and hour were written in. 

“ The Principal desires to see Tobias Tucker in the 
School Office Saturday at 9 A. M. 

Respectfully, 

J. T. Thompson^ Secretary.” 

That is what the card said. 

Toby said: Geel 


250 


CHAPTER XVIII 

IN THE OFFICE 


A h, Tucker,’' greeted Doctor Collins the 
next morning. “ Sit down, please.” 
Toby lowered himself carefully to the 
edge of a leather-seated chair at the end of the 
big flat-topped desk and clutched his cap desper- 
ately. The Principal laid aside the letter he had 
been reading and swung around in his chair until 
he faced the visitor. “ How are you getting on, 
my boy? ” he asked, gravely pleasant. 

Toby took courage. Perhaps things weren’t 
going to be as bad as he had feared. “ All right, 
sir, thanks,” he answered. 

“ Having no trouble with your studies? ” 

“ No, sir, not much.” 

“Any at all?” 

“ Why, I don’t get on so well with Latin,” said 
Toby hesitantly. “ But everything else is all 
right, I think.” 

Doctor Collins picked up a card at his elbow 
251 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and looked it over. “ Your report for last month 
is very fair, Tucker,” he said. “ There’s nothing 
here to indicate any difficulty with Latin.” He 
looked inquiringly over the top of the card. 

I — I only meant that sometimes it was very 
hard to get, sir,” replied the boy, “ but I generally 
get it.” 

“ Oh, I see I ” The Doctor smiled. “ That’s 
another story. I’m glad you are getting along as 
well as you are. Tucker,” he continued more so- 
berly. “ You see, when we award a scholarship 
to a student we look to him to prove our judgment 
correct. We expect him to maintain an excellent 
class standing and be very particular as to deport- 
ment and always obedient to the school regula- 
tions. We try to have as few regulations as pos- 
sible, but of necessity there are some. In short. 
Tucker, we expect a scholarship student to set an 
example to others, an example of studiousness, 
earnestness and good behavior. You under- 
stand ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” murmured Toby. 

“ Do you go in for athletics any. Tucker? ” 
Hockey, sir.” 

“ Does that take much of your time? More, 
252 


IN THE OFFICE 


I mean, than the two hours which the school ex- 
pects you to devote to outdoor exercise? ” 

“ N-no, sir, I guess not. Yes, sir, it does, too, 
because since last Tuesday IVe been practicing 
with Grover Beech for an hour in the morning.” 

“ At what time? ” 

“ From eleven to twelve, sir. We neither of 
us have a recitation then.” 

“ What time do you get up usually. Tucker? ” 

“ About seven, sir. Sometimes before.” 

“ And breakfast at about half-past seven? ” 

” Yes, sir, usually. Sometimes it’s a quarter to 
eight, if I wait for — for Deering.” 

“ Then you’re through by eight-thirty gener- 
ally? In plenty of time for chapel? ” 

“ Yes, sir, always.” 

“ Now tell me what the trouble was on Mon- 
day. You missed chapel that morning, I be- 
lieve? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” Toby hesitated. “ I didn’t know 
how late — ” He paused again and then added 
desperately: “ I forgot about it, sir.” 

“ That’s what this report says. Tucker, but I 
can’t quite understand how you could forget a 
thing that happens every morning, as regularly 

253 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


as breakfast. I see that you missed chapel only 
once before, early in October, on which occasion 
you were excused from attendance. That is 
right?’’ 

“ Yes, sir, the doctor excused me. I had a sore 
throat.” 

“ But nothing of the sort Monday last? It was 
just forgetfulness. Tucker? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” muttered Toby. 

“ I wish you had a better excuse,” said the Doc- 
tor, after a moment, tapping the card against a 
thumb-nail and studying Toby frowningly. 
“Your record is so clean otherwise — ” He 
broke off and tossed the card on the desk. “ Are 
you forgetful by nature, my boy? ” 

“ No, sir, I — I have a pretty good memory, I 
guess.” 

“ Then how do you account for your mental 
lapse in this case? ” 

Toby studied his hands for an instant in silence. 
Then he glanced up and saw something in the 
Principal’s face that prompted him to attempt 
an explanation. “ I guess I’d better try to ex- 
plain, sir,” he said, smiling appealingly. The 
Doctor nodded. 


254 


IN THE OFFICE 


“ I think so, too, Tucker. Take your time. 
What happened, just? ” 

“ After breakfast, sir, I went up to Arnold 
Deering’s room with him to tell him something. 
It was something that had happened to me that 
was — pretty nice, and I thought Arn — Deering 
would be pleased about it.” 

“Wasn’t he?” prompted the Doctor when 
Toby paused. 

“ Not so much as I thought he would be. You 
see, sir, we’re — we’re chums.” The Doctor 
nodded sympathetically. “ Then he said he 
guessed I was wrong about — about what I’d told 
him, and then — then we quarreled ! ” 

“ I see. Was that your fault. Tucker? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Quite sure? ” 

Toby thought. “ Well, I guess it was partly 
my fault, sir, but he was awfully unreasonable I ” 
The Doctor smiled broadly. “ And you 
weren’t, eh? ” he inquired. 

“ Maybe I was, too,” granted Toby, reflecting 
the smile dimly. 

“ Well, you quarreled. Then what happened? 
Did you make up? ” 


255 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ No, sir, he said I was to go out and not come 
back until I had apologized. And so I did. And 
then I went upstairs to my room and — and — ” 
Toby faltered. 

“ Kicked the furniture around? ” 

“ No, sir.” Toby shook his head. “ I just — 
just sat down, I guess, and then, after awhile, I 
looked at the clock and it was nearly nine. And 
so I came over here and asked to see you and Mr. 
Thompson said I couldn’t and I told him. I — 
I’m very sorry, sir.” 

“ I see. Tucker.” The Doctor swung away 
around in his swivel chair and faced one of the 
broad windows. When he spoke next his face 
was away from Toby and the boy had to listen 
hard to hear what he said. “ I wonder what your 
idea of friendship is, my boy. You tell me that 
you and this other boy were chums. That means 
that you were fond of each other, would make ah 
most any sacrifice for each other. I know some- 
thing about friendships between boys. I’ve seen 
so many of them. Tucker, and some very beautiful 
ones. And the beautiful ones have always, I 
think, been based on unselfishness. In fact, I 
doubt if a true friendship can exist without the 
256 


IN THE OFFICE 


constant sacrifice of self. I wish you’d think that 
over, Tucker.” The Doctor paused and then 
swung slowly around again in his chair. “ The 
momentary satisfaction that one gets from yield- 
ing to one’s temper, Tucker, doesn’t begin to 
make up for the consequences. See what has hap- 
pened in your own case. You have made yourself 
unhappy and this other boy, too. Your self-re- 
spect has suffered. Later you will take up your 
friendship, I hope, and go on with it, but you can’t 
take it up just as you left it off. Tucker. There 
will always be a mended place in it, my boy, and 
you know that a mended place is always weak. A 
friendship is too fine a thing to take any chances 
with. One ought to be as careful with a friend- 
ship as one would be with a beautiful piece of del- 
icate glass.” 

The Doctor picked up the card again, looked 
at it a moment and once more laid it aside. Then, 
in more matter-of-fact tones, he went on: “ I’m 
glad you explained to me. Tucker, for it puts a 
different interpretation on your ‘ forgetfulness.’ 
It wasn’t forgetfulness that caused you to miss 
chapel, but anger. In so far as I am able to judge. 
Tucker, it is that temper of yours that will cause 
257 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

you the most trouble in life. If I were you I 
would start out now to learn to control it, and I 
wouldn’t stop until I had succeeded. A man with- 
out the capacity for becoming angry is not much 
use in the world, but a man who is unable to con- 
trol his anger is not only useless but positively dan- 
gerous, to himself and the community. Anger 
controlled is a powerful weapon in the grasp of 
a strong man. Tucker, but anger uncontrolled is 
like a child’s sword whittled from a lathe and 
breaks in our hands, and often wounds us in the 
breaking. Now I’m going to make a bargain 
with you, my boy, subject to your agreement. I’ll 
write the word ‘ excused ’ on this card if you will 
give me your promise to go out from here and sit 
down somewhere quite by yourself and think over 
very carefully what I have been saying. Will you 
do that? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Toby subduedly. 

“ That’s all then. Tucker. I’ m not going to 
make any suggestions as to the healing of the 
breach with your chum. Those things have to 
work themselves out in their own way. Only re- 
member, my boy, that friendship and selfishness 
never mix. Good-morning, Tucker.” 

258 


IN THE OFFICE 


Toby went back to his room and closed the door 
behind him and kept his agreement to the letter. 
That is, he recalled very carefully all that Doctor 
Collins had told him and weighed it. And agreed 
with it, too. As to that temper of his, thought 
Toby, the Doctor was absolutely right. It did 
need controlling. Normally good tempered, 
when he did let go he let go altogether. He could 
almost count on the fingers of his two hands the 
times when he had been thoroughly angry, but 
each time, as he recalled, the result had been disas- 
trous. Always he had made himself unhappy and 
usually some one else. And always he had been 
horribly sorry afterwards, when it was too late. 
He wondered how one went about learning to con- 
trol one’s temper. The Doctor hadn’t told him 
that. Well, he would find a way. The Doctor had 
said he could do it, and so he would. The Doc- 
tor had been mighty nice to him, too ; not at all the 
stern and severe person that Toby had thought 
him. He was glad he had made a clean confes- 
sion of the whole silly business. For it was silly, 
frightfully silly. The idea of quarreling with 
Arn like that ! Why, he would do just about any- 
thing for Arn I And Arn — well, maybe Arn 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


didn’t care as much as he did, but that had nothing 
to do with it, because the Doctor had said that 
friendship must be unselfish, and demanding a re- 
turn for what you gave, even of affection, was self- 
ish ! And the Doctor was right, too, as right as 
anything! If you — cared for some one you just 
naturally wanted to do things for him, and you 
didn’t stop to think what you were getting in re- 
turn. No, sir, you didn’t care! 

Toby aroused from his communing and looked 
startledly at the clock. But it was all right. He 
still had fourteen minutes before his English reci- 
tation. And fourteen minutes was more than 
enough to do what he wanted to do in. He 
jumped up and found a sheet of paper and an en- 
velope and wrote hurriedly: 

'' Dear Arn: 

“I’m awfully sorry I was such a rotter. I wish you 
would forgive me and forget all about it if you can. If 
you want me to apologize to F. L. I will. Maybe he 
didn’t do it, anyway. I guess he didn’t. Anyhow, I 
never meant to say anything about it only I got angry and 
did say it, for which I am very sorry and hope you will 
forgive me. Your friend, 

“ Toby.” 

Toby didn’t knock on Arnold’s door, for he 
260 


IN THE OFFICE 


wasn’t sure whether Arnold was out, and, while 
he had the courage to write the note, to hand it to 
him would be a different matter. So he slipped it 
under the door and hurried across to Oxford, feel- 
ing much happier than he had felt for several 
days. 

He caught only a brief glimpse of Arnold that 
forenoon and when dinner time came he awaited 
his chum’s arrival anxiously. He knew Arnold 
too well to expect him to fall on his neck, so to 
speak, but it wouldn’t be hard to discover whether 
he was willing to make up. Arnold would prob- 
ably say “ Hello, T. Tucker,” and grin a little, 
and that’s all there’d be to it, and Toby would 
know that it was all right ! But it didn’t happen 
that way at all. Arnold came in late, seated him- 
self without so much as a glance across the table 
at Toby and entered into conversation with Ken- 
dall. Toby’s heart fell. Arn wasn’t going to 
forgive him ! Then the comforting thought came 
to him that perhaps Arnold hadn’t been to his 
room yet and so hadn’t read the note. That was 
undoubtedly the explanation, and Toby recovered 
his spirits and ate a very satisfactory dinner. It 
was almost as though they were friends again, for, 
261 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


although Arnold didn’t know it, there was that 
note awaiting him upstairs, and when he had read 
it everything would be fine once more ! So Toby 
got up from the table quite contentedly and rattled 
up two flights of stairs to his room in order to put 
in a quarter of an hour at history before a two 
o’clock recitation. And he whistled merrily until 
he threw the door open and saw a square blue- 
gray envelope lying there. It was one of Ar- 
nold’s envelopes. He had written instead of — 
of — Toby picked up the note sadly and went to 
the window with it. 

“ Just being sorry (he read) doesn’t make up for what 
you said. You made accusations that you knew were 
false. When you acknowledge that they are false I will 
accept an appology and not before. 

“ Respectfully, 

“Arnold Deering.” 

Toby sighed. 

‘‘ And he spelled ‘ apology ’ with two P’s,” he 
muttered, as though that was the last straw. 
“ And he’s still angry. Gee, I can’t go and tell 
him that I know Frank didn’t swipe that money, 
because I know he did. I suppose I might tell a 
lie about it, though. I wish — I wish Frank 
would choke I ” He slipped the note back into 
262 


IN THE OFFICE 


the envelope, thrust it impatiently into the drawer 
and closed the drawer with a vindictive hang. 
“ All right, then, he can stay mad. I’m not going 
to say what isn’t so for him or any one else. ‘ Just 
being sorry doesn’t make up for it I ’ I’d like to 
know what else you can be but sorry. If he 
thinks it’s so easy to — to be sorry — I mean say 
you’re sorry and apologize, then why doesn’t he 
do a little of it? He makes me tired! I don’t 
care a fig whether — ” 

Toby paused right there in his muttering, swal- 
lowed hard and looked sheepish. 

“Gee,” he thought, “I nearly did it again! 
I’m glad Doctor Collins didn’t hear me ! I guess 
the hard thing about controlling your temper is 
to know when you’re not ! ” With which cryptic 
reflection Toby made his way sadly downstairs 
just as the two o’clock bell began to ring. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 

T he hockey game with Nordham that Sat- 
urday afternoon left a good deal to be 
desired in science and interest. In the 
first place, and I mention it as a mitigating cir- 
cumstance, two days of mild weather had left the 
ice in very poor condition and good skating was 
out of the question. A half-inch of water lay 
over the surface and against the boards on the 
sunny side of the rink the ice was fairly rotten, 
Nordham presented a hard-working aggregation 
of talent, a team of lithe, well-trained youths who 
looked not only in the pink of condition but able 
for speed and skill as well. Toby viewed that con- 
test from the bench, for, lacking Coach Loring’s 
prompting. Captain Crowell failed to so much as 
cock an eye at the substitute goal-tend. How- 
ever, there was no necessity at any stage of the 
game for a relief for Frank Lamson. Frank had 
so little to do that he was palpably bored, since 
264 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


as poorly as Yardley played that day Nordham 
somehow managed to play far worse. Her for- 
wards performed fairly well, considering an en- 
tire absence of team-play, but her defense was 
pitifully weak and Yardley, once past the center 
of the rink, had only to keep on her feet in order 
to score. Twelve tallies in the first period 
against two for Nordham, and seven more in the 
last to the visitor’s three was the outcome of the 
contest. The spectators hung over the barrier 
listlessly and almost went to sleep until, toward 
the end, when Crowell put in three substitute for- 
wards and a substitute cover point, the contest be- 
came so much like a parody on hockey that they 
found amusement in making fun of the players. 

If any particular member of either squad stood 
out prominently it was Arnold, for Arnold had a 
particularly good day and scored eight of the 
nineteen goals. Soft ice seemed to make less dif- 
ference with his skating than with that of his fel- 
low players, for he dashed up and down and in 
and out in a particularly startling manner. Nor 
did he lose the puck as the rest did. Even along 
the boards on the soft side of the rink he had per- 
fect control over it. Toby, watching, was very 
265 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


proud of Arnold and almost forgot about control- 
ling the temper when Simpson, beside him, re- 
marked to his neighbor beyond that “ Deering 
was making a fine play to the gallery! ” 

As an example of scientific hockey that game 
was a dismal failure, and as an afternoon’s amuse- 
ment it was no more successful from the viewpoint 
of the audience. The latter turned away when 
the final whistle blew looking very much as 
though it thought it had wasted the better part of 
an hour and a half. Captain Crowell was a bit 
peevish afterwards, in the locker-room at the gym- 
nasium, and was heard to speculate pessimistically 
on what was to happen three weeks later, finally 
observing that he guessed the only thing that 
would save Yardley from getting the hide licked 
off her was a thaw! 

Somehow, Toby, wriggling out of his togs 
— which he might just as well have kept out of 
that day — couldn’t help thinking that if Mr. 
Loring had been on hand that afternoon that game 
would have been a heap more like hockey and less 
like a Donnybrook Fair. And also, he reflected, 
if Mr. Loring had been there one Tobias Tucker 
might have been allowed to take some slight part 
266 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


in the proceedings. With only three more games 
left on the schedule Toby’s chance of covering 
himself with glory and gaining the proud privi- 
lege of wearing the crossed hockey sticks on his 
sweater looked very slim. This thought, added 
to the load of gloom he was already carrying, was 
almost too much for him. He was rather mis- 
erable that evening. 

Mr. Loring returned to Yardley on Tuesday 
morning, a fact made known to Toby when 
he appeared at the rink while Toby and Grover 
Beech were earnestly striving to get the better of 
each other. He looked on for a minute or two 
and then, after Beech had sprawled into the net 
and he and Toby were pulling it back into posi- 
tion, he climbed over the barrier and joined them. 

“ Try these on. Tucker,” he said, holding out 
a pair of goal-tender’s gloves of white buckskin. 
Toby, wondering, dropped his stick to the ice and 
tugged off the old woolen-lined glove from his 
right hand. “ They may be too large for you,” 
continued Mr. Loring, “ but I can have them 
changed. How do they seem? ” 

“ Fine,” answered Toby, awedly, working his 
fingers luxuriously back and forth and feeling the 
267 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


soft, smooth leather give pliably to every motion. 
Beech, taking the other glove from Toby, ad- 
mired it warmly. 

“Gee, Mr. Loring, but those are dandy!” 
he said. “I’ll bet those cost something! See 
the open palm, Toby, and the peachy long cuffs 
on them. Are you going to wear them, sir? ” 

“ Me? No, I got them for Tucker,” replied 
the coach. “ Do they seem all right. Tucker? ” 

“ Y-yes, sir, they — they’re wonderful, but I 
— I don’t think — ” Toby was plainly embar- 
rassed. “ What I mean is,” he struggled on, 
“that they’re much too good, sir. You see, I 
can’t spend much on gloves.” 

“ They’re supposed to be a present,” replied 
Mr. Loring. “ If you’re too haughty to accept 
a present — ” 

“Oh! No, sir. I’m not, but — but they’re a 
lot more expensive I guess, than they need be.” 

“ It doesn’t pay to buy cheap leather, my boy. 
Put on the other one and get used to them.” 

“ Yes, sir,” murmured Toby, flustered, trying 
to pick up his stick, accept the other glove from 
Beech and find words of thanks at the same mo- 
ment, with the result that he fumbled stick, glove 
268 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


and speech ! Beech chuckled, Mr. Loring smiled 
and Toby colored. “I — Pm most awfully 
much obliged,” the latter managed to enunciate 
at last. “ I don’t know how to — to thank you, 
sir, and — ” 

“ Never mind,” laughed the coach. “ Actions 
speak louder than words. Tucker, and I should 
say that gratitude had simply overwhelmed you ! ” 

Toby laughed too then and struggled into the 
second glove and smote them together and viewed 
them proudly, and Mr. Loring and Beech smiled 
understandingly at each other. After that, al- 
though Toby thought that he had utterly failed to 
meet the situation, the interrupted practice went 
on. To the amusement of the others, those new 
gloves quite upset Toby’s game and for a few 
minutes Beech scored goals almost as he liked. 
But that didn’t last and very soon the old struggle 
for mastery was on again in earnest and Mr. Lor- 
ing, who had an engagement in the village at 
twelve and should have been on his way even then, 
enjoyed the contest so much that he stayed until 
Beech called a halt. Then he hurried off by the 
river path with the tails of his fur coat flapping lu- 
dicrously in the wind. Toby and Beech, treading 
260. 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the squeaky board-walk that led up the slope to the 
gymnasium, watched and chuckled. At least, 
Beech chuckled. Toby didn’t because nothing 
that Alfred Loring could do after that morning 
could ever seem ludicrous to him. He wondered 
if the coach had guessed that the reason he had 
no better gloves was because he hadn’t the money 
to buy them with, and concluded he had — and de- 
cided that he didn’t care. Mr. Loring was much 
too fine a gentleman to look down on a chap be- 
cause he happened to be poor. Those gloves were 
not left in his locker in the gymnasium that day, 
but accompanied him into class room and com- 
mons, to be secretly felt of at intervals. 

By that time Toby’s exchequer was slightly re- 
plenished and he decided that those gloves de- 
manded a pair of leg-guards to go with them. 
He could buy the leg-guards if he used all his 
money except a few pennies and he determined to 
be reckless and get them. Not having Arnold to 
call on for advice and counsel, he sacrificed most 
of his dinner the next day, and hurried off to the 
village alone. As it turned out, Arnold’s advice 
wouldn’t have helped him a great deal, for there 
were but two styles of leg-guards to choose 
270 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 

from at Fessenden’s, one cheap and unworthy 
the honor of being associated with those new 
gloves and the other expensive and wonder- 
ful. Toby unhesitatingly purchased a pair of the 
latter sort and counted out his money with a fine 
feeling of affluence. The only fly in his ointment 
was that he couldn’t put them on then and there 
and wear them home. Of course he could have 
done so, too, but he had a suspicion that the resi- 
dents of Greenburg would stare. But he wore 
them that afternoon and gloried in the immacu- 
late beauty of the white leather and felt uncom- 
fortably conspicuous until he got interested in 
stopping the shots at goal and forgot them. 
They came up well above his knee and down over 
his ankle-bones, and there were no pesky leather 
straps punched with holes which were never in the 
right places. Instead, they were held in place by 
canvas strips which, once slipped through the 
clasps, stayed there immovably as long as you 
wanted them to and undid very easily. In those 
new white gloves and new white leg-guards Toby 
looked very fine that afternoon and managed to 
convey the impression that he was a real, sure- 
enough goal-tend ! Perhaps Crowell was im- 
271 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


pressed, for he displayed more interest in Toby 
than he had since that first talk before Christmas 
recess. As usual, Toby played at the net in the 
second period of the practice game with the sec- 
ond, and, perhaps because he was trying to live 
up to his new togs, got away with a clean score, 
for not once did the second get the puck into the 
net. Mr. Loring smiled his satisfaction when 
Toby passed him on his way off the ice and said: 

“ Good work. Tucker. Keep it up.” 

Toby went back to an hour’s study before sup- 
per feeling rather well pleased with himself, and 
had it not been for the falling-out with Arnold 
would have been a very happy youth that evening 
As it was, however, even success on the rink 
couldn’t make him altogether content. He 
missed Arnold’s companionship horribly. What 
was the use of making a success of hockey if there 
was no one to talk it over with? He tried to 
think of some chap who could take Arnold’s place, 
but there didn’t seem to be any. He was friendly 
with quite a number of fellows now, but none of 
them were intimates. Grover Beech would talk 
hockey with him by the hour, but his interest paled 
the moment another subject was introduced. No, 
272 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


Toby could think of no one who would care to lis- 
ten to his confidences. He got pretty lonely at 
times about now. 

When he and Arnold met, Toby’s rather wist- 
ful glances went unseen or, being seen, met no re- 
sponse. Arnold always looked over him or past 
him, coldly and unforgivingly. There were 
times when Toby was tempted to humble himself, 
to offer any sort of apology or atonement in re- 
turn for a re-establishment of their old friendship, 
but always at the last moment pride or embar- 
rassment intervened. Subsequent to such periods 
of weakness Toby went to the opposite extreme 
and sullenly vowed that he would never have any- 
thing more to do with Arnold; no, sir, not even if 
Arnold begged him on his knees ! 

Arnold appeared strangely morose and crabbed 
those days. At table he was short-tempered and 
often uncivil. He and Gladwin almost came to 
blows one evening over a discussion of some per- 
fectly trivial subject, and it finally got so that the 
others carefully left him alone. All, that is to 
say, except Homer Wilkins. Arnold’s perversi- 
ties had no effect on Homer. If Arnold was 
cross, Homer merely assured him earnestly and 

273 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


good-temperedly that he hoped he would choke. 

Oddly enough, Frank Lamson began to de- 
velop a sort of friendship for Toby. He seldom 
met him without stopping and talking^ The con- 
versation was never very important or very confi- 
dential, but Frank seemed to derive satisfaction 
from it. At first Toby was embarrassed, but af- 
ter awhile he found himself quite ready to stop 
and chat. For one thing, Frank was near to Ar- 
nold and Toby could speak of the latter to him. 
One day — Frank had found Toby idly reading 
the notices on the bulletin board in the corridor 
of Oxford while awaiting a recitation — Frank 
observed : 

“ Say, Toby, what’s up between you and Arn? 
He seems to have a peach of a grouch about some- 
thing, and I notice you don’t go around much to- 
gether any more. What’s wrong, eh? ” 

“ Oh, nothing,” answered Toby evasively. 
“ What — what does Arn say ? ” 

Frank shrugged. “ Nothing. Just scowls. I 
thought you two were regular what-do-you-call- 
’ems — Damon and — what was the other chap’s 
name? ” 

“Pythias?” 


274 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


“ I guess so. What have you quarreled 
about? ” 

But Toby was silent, and Frank, amusing him- 
self by running the end of a pencil across the ra- 
diator pipes, evoking a discordant result that ap- 
peared to give him much pleasure, went on: 
“ Gee, you and he were so inseparable at Christ- 
mas time that I never saw Arn but once all during 
vacation, and that was Christmas morning when I 
went down to his room to leave a present.” 

“ That was an awfully pretty pin he gave you,” 
remarked Toby carelessly. 

“ What pin? ” asked Frank in puzzled tones. 

“ The one I saw you wearing several times. It 
was a moonstone, wasn’t it? ” 

“That? Arn didn’t give me that. My 
mother did. Arn gave me a book. Forget the 
name of it now. It was pretty punk. I hate 
folks to give me books for Christmas, don’t 
you? ” 

“ No, I like them,” replied Toby. There was, 
he thought, no reason why he should be so de- 
lighted at discovering that Arnold had not given 
Frank that scarf-pin, but delighted he was never- 
theless, and his pleasure made him quite cordial 
275 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and friendly toward Frank. “ That was a dandy 
pin, and I was sure Arn had given it to you.’’ 

“ Well, he didn’t,” returned the other indiffer- 
ently. “ He gave me a silly book.” He chuck- 
led. “ He didn’t get anything on me, though, at 
that, for I gave him a half-dozen handkerchiefs I 
I’d rather get a book than handkerchiefs, eh? ” 

“ A good deal rather ! ” laughed Toby. “ Use- 
ful things like handkerchiefs and stockings and 
gloves are mighty nice to have, but you always 
feel as though folks ought to give you things that 
aren’t useful at Christmas, don’t you? ” 

“Absolutely! What did Arn give you, 
Toby?” 

“ A pair of gold cuff-links.” 

“Fine!” Frank glanced down at Toby’s 
wrists. “ Got ’em on? ” 

“ No, I — they’re too dressy to wear every 
day.” 

Frank grinned. “ So peeved you won’t even 
wear his present, eh? Sic him. Prince! I dare 
say whatever the row is, it’s Arn’s fault. He’s 
a stubborn brute. I’ve known him for five or six 
years, I guess, and I know his tricks. Arn isn’t 
a bad sort, of course, but he’s mighty cranky some- 
276 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 

times. Well, he will get over it, Toby. Let him 
alone, eh? ” 

Toby made no response. He was wondering 
what Frank would say if he was told that he was 
the reason of the quarrel. Frank varied his per- 
formance on the radiator by tapping the coils and 
looked hurt when they all developed about the 
same notes. 

“You know Tommy Lingard, don’t you?” 
asked Toby suddenly. 

Frank nodded without looking up, continuing 
his hopeless search for music. “ Yes, I know 
Tommy after a fashion. What about him?” 

“ Nothing. He said one time that he knew 
you pretty well.” 

“ He will say anything, the little rotter,” re- 
plied Frank cheerfully. “ Tommy’s one of the 
finest little impromptu, catch-as-catch-can liars in 
school. Still, he managed to tell the truth for 
once. My folks know his folks at home. They 
live on the same street with us. His old man’s a 
nice old sort. Has a heap of money. Made it 
easy, too.” 

“ Did he? ” asked Toby. “ How? ” 

“ Just by cutting-up.” 


277 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


“ Cuttlng-up? How do you mean? 

“ He was a butcher,” laughed Frank. “ I 
spring that one on Tommy when he gets too 
fresh. He’s a beast of a nuisance, that kid. Al- 
ways wanting to borrow money from me. He 
has plenty of his own, but he spends it on candy 
and truck like that and is always broke. Well, i 
here we go I What do you have this hour? ” 

“ Math,” answered Toby. “ Mr. McIntyre.” 

“ ‘ Kilts,’ eh? He’s a good old sort, ‘ Kilts ’ 

Is. Well, so long. See you at practice.” 
Frank nodded, still a trifle condescendingly, and 
strolled off after one final hopeless tap on a steam 
coil, leaving Toby to gather his books and make 
his way down the corridor in the other direction. j 
If, he pondered, young Lingard was really the liar | 
that Frank dubbed him perhaps his story about 
getting that patched dollar from Frank was un- I 
truthful. On the other hand, though, Frank had 
said that Lingard was always trying to borrow J 

money. And If that was so, why, what more * 

probable than that Frank had loaned him some, | 

as Lingard had stated? Well, he would prob- ^ 

ably never know the real truth of it. And, be- .] 

sides, he had agreed with himself to forget It. iv 

278 


A PAIR OF GLOVES 


So there was no use speculating about it. But, 
just the same, he wished he knew! Somehow it 
wasn’t so easy to-day to believe in Frank’s guilt. 
And somehow revenging himself on Frank by 
beating him out for the position of goal-tend 
didn’t appeal to him nearly so much as it had a 
few days before. Of course the mere fact that 
Arnold hadn’t given Frank that scarf-pin proved 
nothing, but Toby got a lot of satisfaction from 


CHAPTER XX 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 

HERE’S a saying to the effect that 
“ clothes make the man.” It isn’t true, 
as you and I both know very well. And 
it is probably equally untrue that togs make the 
hockey player. And yet — well, those new leg- 
guards and those new gloves certainly had an ef- 
fect on Toby. Or something did. On Thursday 
before the Rock Hill College game, which was, 
with the exception of the final contest with Broad- 
wood, considered the most important event on the 
hockey schedule, Toby performed so creditably 
that Captain Crowell sought Coach Loring after- 
wards for counsel. 

“ That kid Tucker’s playing pretty nearly as 
well as Lamson, sir, don’t you think? ” he asked. 
They were walking up to the gymnasium behind 
the others and Mr. Loring was making the boards 
creak as he stamped his feet to warm them. 
“ The way he played to-day was corking, I 
280 



CAPTAIN AND COACH 


thought.** Crowell’s admiration sounded grudg- 
ing and the coach glanced at him speculatingly be- 
fore he spoke. 

“ What Lave you got against Tucker, Cro- 
well? ** he asked. 

“ Not a thing,** answered Crowell in surprise. 
‘‘ What made you think I had, sir? ** 

“ Well, for a week and more Tucker has 
played a bit better than Lamson and you haven*t so 
much as mentioned it- — or him. I began to 
think that possibly you had some personal — er 
— dislike, Crowell.** 

“ If I had,** answered the captain a trifle stiffly, 
“ I wouldn*t let it influence me, sir.** 

“ Glad to hear it,** was the untroubled re- 
sponse. “ If you want my opinion, Tucker*s a 
better goal than Lamson right now and he will 
get better every day.** 

Crowell was silent for a minute. Then: 
“ You think we*d better use him Saturday, sir? ** 
he asked. 

“ By all means. He needs the experience, 
Crowell. If he doesn*t fill the bill, put in Lam- 
son, but by all means give Tucker a chance to get 
some work against an outside team. You never 
281 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


can tell what any player is good for until he’s run 
up against some one beside his own crowd.” 

“ It sounds as though you’d already picked him 
for the Broadwood game,” said Crowell doubt- 
fully. 

Mr. Loring smiled. I had, but you needn’t 
unless you want to. I’m not interfering with your 
choice of players, Crowell. I told you I didn’t in- 
tend to when I started in. It would be a lot easier 
for me if I did do that. A coach who hasn’t ab- 
solute control always works at a disadvantage. 
But I realized that you didn’t particularly want 
me here this year and that it wouldn’t do to an- 
tagonize you.” 

Crowell colored. “ I don’t think you have any 
reason to say that, Mr. Loring,” he stammered. 
“ I’ve been very glad to have you.” 

“ Rather than no one, yes,” replied Mr. Lor- 
ing dryly. “ Possibly you have wondered why 
I ‘ butted in ’ this winter. I’ll tell you. A num- 
ber of us Old Boys got to talking things over one 
afternoon in the club in New York and the ques- 
tion of a hockey coach came up. I was asked if I 
was going to help again this year and said that I 
had had no request; that since we had lost to 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 

Broadwood last year I thought that probably the 
sentiment here was in favor of a change. We all 
felt that things ought to be pulled together and we 
got in touch with Mr. Bendix by telephone. He 
told us that you were looking for a coach but 
hadn’t found any one. Nothing more was done 
then. That was in December. I think about the 
tenth. During vacation Mr. Bendix happened 
into the club one day and the subject of hockey 
came up again. He said that they were still with- 
out a coach and that he thought it would be well 
for some of us to take the matter up and send some 
one down there. Two or three old players were 
approached, but none of them could give the time. 
For that matter, I didn’t feel that I could spare 
the time myself, but there seemed to be no one 
else and the others insisted and so I came. I 
might have taken everything right out of your 
hands, Crowell, and put myself in full command, 
as I was last season. Faculty advised me to, but 
I knew you well enough to realize that the only 
way we could turn out any sort of a team was for 
you and I to pull together, my boy. You didn’t 
want me and you wouldn’t have had me if you 
could have found some one else. I didn’t much 
283 


GUA-RDING HIS GOAL 


care whether you wanted me or not, however. 
We grads want good teams here and we want the 
old school to win her games. My interest begins 
and ends there. So far you and I have got along 
very well, but it’s been mainly because I’ve taken 
pains not to interfere a bit more than has been ab- 
solutely necessary. Now we’ve come to a situa- 
tion that demands a sort of a show-down, I guess. 
Suppose you tell me frankly why you dislike the 
idea of having Tucker play goal instead of Lam- 
son.” 

“ I haven’t a thing against Tucker, sir,” replied 
Crowell slowly, evidently choosing his words with 
care, “ unless it’s his age. He’s pretty young to 
be a first team goal-tend, isn’t he? ” 

“ Yes, but if he can play the position it doesn’t 
seem to me that his age has much to do with it. 
What’s the rest of it? ” 

“ That’s all, Mr. Loring, really,” insisted Cro- 
well. “ I guess that the fact of the matter is that 
I — I just got used to the idea of a certain fellow 
playing a position and hate to think of changing.” 

“ That’s a bad idea, Crowell. Every team is 
likely to have some dead-wood in it that needs 
cutting out. You want the seven best players in 
284 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


there that you can find, irrespective of age or so- 
cial affiliations or anything else. Isn’t that so? ” 
“ Yes, sir, it is. Is there any other dead-wood? 
Have you any other fellows in mind? ” 

“No, I think not. I’d like to see Casement 
get a good, thorough trial at right wing, for Deer- 
ing’s been playing pretty erratically of late, but 
I’m not prepared to say that Casement is a better 
man. As to Tucker, I’d advise using him harder, 
giving him a fairer show, Crowell. If he is really 
better than Lamson let’s find it out. We want 
the best man at goal on Saturday and two weeks 
from Saturday that we can discover. Personally 
I believe Tucker’s the man, but I may be wrong. 
Is Lamson a particular friend of yours? ” 

Crowell frowned. “ No, he’s not,” he an- 
swered shortly. 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” said the coach 
soothingly. “ I only wondered if you were hesi- 
tating about hurting his feelings. If you are, you 
might let me attend to the matter. When it 
comes to building a team they all look alike to 
me.” 

Crowell made no answer for a minute. They 
had reached the gymnasium and had paused in the 

285 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


upstairs hall. Finally the captain looked up 
frankly, if a trifle embarrassedly, at the coach. 

I guess, sir,” he said, “ you don’t want to turn 
out a winning team any more than I do. And I 
think it will be best if you just — just take charge 
of everything after this. I suppose I’m sort of 
dunder-headed about some things. If I choose 
a fellow for a position I’m likely to let him stay 
there rather than acknowledge that I’m wrong 
even to myself, and that’s mighty poor manage- 
ment. I’m sorry if I’ve acted like an idiot all 
the season, sir — ” 

“ You haven’t, Crowell. I didn’t mean to con- 
vey the impression that I was dissatisfied. Every- 
thing has gone along quite smoothly, my boy. If 
there have been mistakes we’ve shared them. 
But I’m not going to pretend that I’m not mighty 
glad to take full charge, because, quite frankly, 
I think you’ll play your position a lot better if you 
don’t have too many — er — too many cares of 
state on your mind! Suppose that after this we 
get in the way of meeting after practice, say in 
your room, or in mine if you don’t mind walking 
down to the village, and going over things to- 
gether. That seem feasible to you? ” 

286 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


“Yes, sir, I think it would be a mighty good 
plan,” answered Captain Crowell. “ I guess it 
would have been better for the team if we’d done 
that long ago, Mr. Loring.” 

“ Possibly. But we won’t worry ourselves 
with regrets. We’ll look forward, Crowell, and 
see if we can’t pull that team together so that it 
will everlastingly wallop Broadwood two weeks 
from next Saturday! I dare say that what I 
should have done is had this talk with you a month 
ago. But never mind that now. I’ll drop 
around to-morrow evening — I guess we’ve said 
all that’s to be said for the present — and we’ll 
plan things for Saturday. Good-night, Crowell.” 

Mr. Loring held out his hand and Crowell 
grasped it tightly. 

“ Good-night, sir,” he said, “ and thanks. I’m 
not nearly so afraid of the Broadwood game as I 
was! You do think we can win it, don’t you, 
sir?” 

“ Hands down. Cap ! ” answered the coach. 
“ You wait and see what we can accomplish in two 
weeks of pulling together ! ” 

And so it came about that when the referee 
skated to the center of the rink armed with puck 
287 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


and whistle two afternoons later it was Toby 
Tucker who stood guard at the south goal, Toby 
very sturdy-looking and straight in toque and 
sweater and padded khaki pants and magnificent 
white leg-guards, his white-gloved hands holding 
his stick across his body, his blue eyes very bright 
and alert and his mouth set firmly and straight. 
Toby made a dazzling figure there in the cold sun- 
light of a boisterous winter day and, in his cos- 
tume of dark-blue and white, against the yellow 
boards of the barrier and the wind-swept sky 
above, might almost have stepped from a poster. 
In front of him Hal Framer leaned on his stick, 
and beyond stood Ted Halliday, and then Crum- 
bie, and, finally, facing the Rock Hill left wing, 
Orson Crowell. To the right was Arnold Deer- 
ing and to the left Jim Rose. At the other end of 
the rink, poised on impatient skates, was the Rock 
Hill College team, colorful in gray and crimTson. 
A hard, north-westerly gale blew across the ice, 
stinging face's and numbing fingers and, at times, 
whirling little clouds of powdery snow in air. A 
steady thump-thump sounded as the spectators 
crowded close to the barrier kicked their shoes 
against the boards to warm fast-chilling feet. 

288 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


Behind the nets, ulstered, hands plunged deep 
into warm pockets, the goal umpires stood and 
shivered. Then the referee poised the puck with 
one hand above the waiting sticks and raised the 
whistle to his lips. The tattoo against the boards 
died away. A shrill blast sounded, the gray disk 
of rubber dropped to the ice, sticks clashed, skate- 
blades bit and the game began. 

On the bench, one of a half-dozen other coated 
and blanketed figures, sat Frank Lamson. Frank 
was still struggling with the surprise that had 
overwhelmed him three minutes before when 
Coach Coring, calling the line-up, had announced 
the name of Tucker instead of Lamson. Frank 
was still not quite sure the coach had not made a 
mistake ! Only, if he had, why didn’t he discover 
it? And what was Orson Crowell thinking of 
that he hadn’t entered a protest against such ab- 
surdity? Frank stole a wondering glance along 
the length of the bench to where Coach Coring sat. 
The coach was looking intently at the game and 
evidently saw nothing wrong. Slowly, as the fig- 
ures dashed up and down and in and out and the 
ring of steel and the clash of sticks and the cries of 
the players filled the air, it was borne to Frank 
289 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 

that Toby had superseded him, that Coach Loring 
had done what he had done intentionally, that 
Crowell had connived at it, that, in short, he, 
Frank Lamson, was only a second-string man I 
Surprise grew to incredulity and incredulity to dis- 
may. He wondered what the fellows on the 
bench with him thought of it, and turned to see. 
But they were all following the flying puck ab- 
sorbedly, evidently with no thought for the stupen- 
dous wrong that had been committed I Indigna- 
tion surged over him. Anger filled his soul. So 
they thought they could treat him that way and get 
away with it, did they? They thought they could 
oust him without a word of explanation and put 
a mere fifteen-year-old, inexperienced kid in his 
place? Well, they’d find out their mistake I No 
one could treat him like a yellow pup, by jingo I 
He’d show them so, too ! Superbly he arose from 
the bench, dropped his blanket with a gesture of 
magnificent disdain and turned his back on the 
scene. Unfortunately, however, not a soul saw 
him, for at that moment Rock Hill had the puck 
in front of the Yardley goal and six pushing, slash- 
ing players were fighting desperately there. And 
no one saw him make his way off up the slope, 
290 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


bracing himself against the gale, for just then the 
referee’s whistle sounded and Rock Hill was bran- 
dishing sticks in triumph and skating, with perhaps 
a mere suggestion of swagger, back to her own ter- 
ritory. So Frank’s dramatic defiance was lost 
and neither Coach Loring nor Captain Crowell 
nor any of Frank’s companions knew that he had 
withdrawn in outraged dignity and left them to 
their fate. 

The game went on again. Toby, a little pale, 
crouched and watched. He was hating himself 
for letting the puck get by a minute ago. It had 
been almost impossible to follow it. Sticks, feet, 
bodies had mingled confusedly before him. He 
had repelled one attempt after another with skates 
and stick, the goal had tilted under the surge of 
the struggling players, blades had whacked 
against his leg-guards, the world had been a 
maelstrom of blue legs and crimson — and then 
the whistle had blown and, behold, there was the 
puck a fair six inches past the opening! How it 
had got by him he never knew, but there it was, 
and the goal umpire had waved his hand and the 
tragic blast of the whistle had sounded! And 
Toby’s heart was filled with woe I 
291 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


But there wasn’t much time to spend in regrets, 
for once more the Rock Hill forwards, strung out 
across the ice four-abreast, were bearing down 
on him. The puck slithered away across to the 
left and Arnold charged at his opponent. But a 
carrom against the boards fooled him and the red- 
legged enemy secured the disk again and slid it 
back. Halliday missed it by an inch and he and 
the left center went down in a kicking heap. 
There was only Framer now, and the puck was 
but twenty feet away. Toby slid to the left, 
crouched, his heart beating hard. 

Framer tried to intercept the pass to the right 
wing but only succeeded in diverting the puck 
to the right center. Crowell, dashing in like a 
whirlwind, lifted the opponent’s stick, slashed 
at the puck, missed it and went past. Framer 
was on it — had it — was off down the ice, al- 
most free ! Followed a wild scramble then. 
The Rock Hill cover point fell slowly back to 
position. Crowell fell in behind Framer and 
Arnold tried hard to get into place for a pass. 
Then the cover point dashed forward. Framer 
slipped the puck to the right and dodged to the 
left, skates grated harshly, Arnold swerved in, 
292 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


reached, found the disk with his stick, circled 
back, passed across to Crumbie — 

Shoot! yelled Crowell. 

Shoot! implored the spectators. 

But the Rock Hill point was rushing desper- 
ately at Crumbie, his stick slashing the ice, and 
it was Jim Rose, coming in from the rear, who 
hooked the puck away just in time and, miracu- 
lously dodging the defenders in front of the cage, 
banged it home for Yardley’s first score. 

Paeans of delight arose from around the barrier 
and the blue blades of the Yardley sticks waved 
in air. The Rock Hill goal was telling the point 
just how it had happened and finding comfort in 
explaining. Then they were off again. Rose hav- 
ing the puck along the boards. A pass to the cen- 
ter of the ice went wrong and it was the Rock Hill 
cover point who became the man of the moment. 
But his reign was brief and ended when Rose sent 
him sprawling into the barrier. A Rock Hill for- 
ward stole the disk and skated desperately, but 
there was no one to take the pass and ten yards in 
front of the Blue’s goal Halliday got it away and 
fed it down the ice. And so it went for the rest 
of that first period, with no more scores for either 

293 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


side. Twice Rock Hill threatened dangerously 
and eight times she shot, but only three attempts 
reached Toby and those were stopped without dif- 
ficulty. For her part, Yardley only once came 
near to scoring and then the puck struck an up- 
right and bounded away and Crowell’s attempt to 
cage it only sent it over the barrier into the snow. 

On the whole, Toby had a fairly easy time of 
it during that half of the contest. It was in the 
second period that he found his work cut out for 
him, for, after the rest, Rock Hill showed that 
she could play hockey. Halliday was hurt in the 
first minute of play and Stillwell took his place. 
Five minutes after that Crumbie was sent off for 
tripping, and it was then that Rock Hill almost 
snatched a victory. That she didn’t was only due 
to the fact that Toby, looking ridiculously small 
but making up for his lack of bulk by his quick- 
ness, played his position like a veteran. Still- 
well was not Halliday’s equal on defense, and, 
with Crumbie off. Rock Hill kept the puck around 
the Blue’s goal for what seemed hours to the goal- 
tend. Shot after shot was made, knocked down 
and brushed aside. The applause from the au- 
dience was almost continual and the shouting of 
294 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


the contenders made a babel through which Toby, 
inwardly in a wild ferment of excitement but out- 
wardly as cool as the ice he stood on, slid from 
one side of the cage to the other, crouched, 
straightened, kicked with his skates, thrust with 
his stick and watched all the time with his blue 
eyes, never losing sight of the puck. Time and 
again, having shot. Rock Hill secured the disk the 
instant Toby thrust it aside. Yardley, minus one 
player, slashed and sprawled and shouted help- 
lessly, with Crowell commanding them to “ Get it 
out of there ! ’’ That was a wild and strenuous 
two minutes for Toby, but he came through with a 
clean slate. The scorer credited him with seven 
stops in that busy space of time, but Toby is still 
of the opinion that the scorer missed some thirty- 
five or forty ! And then, finally, just as Crumbie 
tumbled over the barrier again and rushed to the 
rescue, Arnold pulled the puck from a Rock Hill 
forward and got free with it. 

But there was no getting past the opponent’s 
outer defense now. Cover point and point had 
learned their lesson in the first period and, with a 
center playing back on defense, Yardley’s rushes 
never took her past the outer trenches. Toward 
295 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the end of the period both teams were trying long 
shots and failing miserably. Casement took Ar- 
nold’s place when the latter bruised his knee against 
the barrier, and, just before the whistle, Flagg 
displaced Framer. But the period ended without 
another tally, the score still one to one. 

Five minutes of rest, then, and back to the bat- 
tle once more for two five-minute periods. Then 
it was that Coach Loring, deciding to relieve a 
very tired Toby, called for Lamson and discov- 
ered him missing. Messengers were dispatched 
to the gymnasium but returned to report that 
Frank was not to be found. Coach Loring 
scowled, shrugged and viewed Toby doubtfully. 
Then he conferred with Captain Crowell and the 
two put the matter up to Toby himself. 

“ I’ll be all right in a minute or two,” panted 
the boy cheerfully. “Tired? No, sir, I don’t 
feel tired a bit ! ” 

Coach Loring smiled. “ All right, then, you’d 
better try the next period anyway. If Lamson 
turns up we’ll let you off. Do the best you can. 
Tucker. We’ve fought them off so far and it 
would certainly be too bad to lose the game now, 
wouldn’t it? ” 


296 


CAPTAIN AND COACH 


“Yes, sir! Pll stop them if it can be done, 
Mr. Loring.” 

And then, presently, they were at it again, with 
the twilight fast creeping down over the scene and 
the half-frozen spectators once more forgetting 
their misery in the excitement and suspense of 
those two final periods. Science went to the dis- 
card now, however, and it was every man for him- 
self. Both teams tried desperately to score by 
hook or by crook. Penalties came fast and furi- 
ous, and at one time each team was reduced to 
five players! The whistle shrilled constantly for 
off-side plays. The puck was swept up the rink 
and back again. Shots from the very middle of 
the ice were frequently attempted and seldom 
rolled past the points. The players became so 
weary that they could scarcely keep their feet un- 
der them. Substitutes dropped over the boards 
and first-string players wobbled off with hanging 
heads and trailing sticks. And all the time Yard- 
ley at the barriers cheered and shouted and im- 
plored a victory. But it was not to be. One pe- 
riod ended, the teams changed their goals and the 
next began. Toby, finding it hard now to see the 
puck at any distance, screwed his eyes up and 
.297 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


peered anxiously every minute. But only three 
times in the last ten minutes was his skill called 
into play and none of the shots which thumped 
against his pads was difficult to stop. At the 
other end of the rink, the opposing goal-tend had 
an even easier time, for Yardley was seldom 
threatening. And then, suddenly, the whistle 
shrilled for the last time and the game was over. 
And Yardley and Rock Hill gathered in two little 
groups In the fast-gathering darkness and limply 
and weakly cheered for each other. And al- 
though the Blue hadn’t won, and although she pre- 
tended to be downcast over the result, she was nev- 
ertheless secretly very well satisfied with the Incon- 
clusive contest, because, just between you and me. 
Rock Hill had outplayed her In every position 
save one. And that one position was goal. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE RESCUE 

T oby rather dreaded meeting Frank Lam- 
son after that game. Now that he had 
conquered, and something told him that, 
barring accidents, he was certain of the goal po- 
sition for the rest of the season, the victory- 
seemed much less glorious. In spite of himself, 
for he tried to be stern and judicial, he was sorry 
for Frank. Of course Frank didn’t deserve any 
sympathy; no fellow did who was guilty of what 
Frank was guilty of; but, just the same, the sym- 
pathy was there and Toby had to sort of put his 
heel on it every now and then to keep it from 
rising up and making him uncomfortable. If 
only Frank hadn’t been so — so sort of decent of 
late, it would have been easier ! But when a fel- 
low seeks you out and shows plainly that he likes 
to talk to you, why, it’s hard not to entertain a 
sneaking liking for him ! And, besides that, 
Frank was Arnold’s friend, and in spite of the 
299 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


fact that everything was quite all over between 
Toby and Arnold and they were never, never go- 
ing to speak to each other again, Toby still had a 
weak dislike of doing anything to hurt Arnold's 
feelings. Of course it was silly and all that, but 
there it was ! On the whole, Toby wasn’t nearly 
as happy that Saturday evening as he should have 
been, considering the fact that the whole school 
was talking about him playing and giving him 
every bit of credit that was to be given for staving 
off a defeat at the hands of Rock Hill. 

The meeting which he dreaded didn’t take place 
until the next day. It was rumored that evening 
that Frank Lamson had been taken sick and had 
had to leave the rink, which accounted for the fact 
that he hadn’t been available when wanted to sub- 
stitute Toby. As no one guessed the emotions of 
anger and outrage which had prompted Frank’s 
retirement, the explanation was accepted at face 
value. It is possible that Frank, having recov- 
ered his temper, made that explanation to Mr. 
Loring. I don’t know as to that. But I do 
know that Frank was back at practice on Monday 
very much as though nothing had happened. 

It was Monday noon when ^""by, taking a 
300 


THE RESCUE 


short-cut from the village, encountered Frank and 
Arnold on the foot-path that leads up the Pros- 
pect. He didn’t see them until he was nearly on 
them and it was then too late to turn back or 
avoid them. Toby, conscious of the blood flow- 
ing to his cheeks, would have nodded and mut- 
tered a greeting and gone on, but Frank was of an- 
other mind. Frank didn’t look particularly amia- 
ble, possil^ly because he had been in the midst of 
an indignant tirade against Coach Loring, and 
Toby wanted very, very much to keep right on. 
He couldn’t, though, because Frank deliberately 
barred his path. 

“ Hello, Toby,” he said growlingly. “ I sup- 
pose you’re feeling pretty big to-day, eh? A reg- 
ular hero and all that, what? ” 

“ No, I’m not feeling big at all,” he answered. 
Arnold had drawn back a step or two and was 
looking down the hill. “ I heard you were sick 
yesterday, Frank. I hope you’re all right to- 
day.” 

“ I was sick of the way I was treated,” an- 
swered the other sharply. “ I haven’t got any- 
thing against you, Toby. It wasn’t your fault, I 
guess. You tried to get it away from me, and you 
301 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


had a right to. That’s nothing. But that fool 
Loring didn’t have any right to yank me out of 
there without saying anything, did he? I guess 
I’d been playing pretty good hockey, hadn’t I? 
How would you have felt about it if they’d treated 
you like that? ” 

“I — I suppose I shouldn’t have liked it,” 
murmured Toby uncomfortably, embarrassedly 
conscious of Arnold’s presence. 

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t! That’s no way to 
treat fellows. I’ve done good work all winter 
for them, played the best I knew how, and that’s 
what I get for it I They just drop me without a 
word! Crowell says that Loring’s the whole 
push now and that he didn’t have anything to do 
with it. He’s afraid I’ll make trouble for him, 
I guess. And maybe I will, too.” 

“ I dare say he will put you back again to-mor- 
row,” ventured Toby not very truthfully. 

“Yes, he will — not! I wouldn’t go back! 
I’m through! Arn’s been talking about duty to 
the school and all that rot. I’ll bet he wouldn’t 
think so much about that if they’d dropped him 
like a hot potato ! ” 

Toby tried to edge past. “ I’m sorry, Frank,” 
302 


THE RESCUE 


he murmured. “ Of course, I wanted the place 
and tried for it, but ■ — ” 

Arnold sniffed and spoke for the first time. 
“ Don’t be a hypocrite,” he sneered. “ You’re 
just awfully sorry, aren’t you ? All cut up about 
it, I guess I ” 

“ I am sorry,” declared Toby stoutly. “ It 
isn’t my fault if Mr. Loring — ” 

“ That’s a coward’s trick, to hide behind some 
one else,” broke in Arnold. 

“Meaning that I’m a coward?” demanded 
Toby, hotly. 

“ You may make it mean what you like I ” 

“ Oh, come now, Arn,” Frank put in sooth- 
ingly, “ Toby’s all right. I’m not saying any- 
thing, am I ? ” 

“ That’s twice you’ve called me a coward,” said 
Toby, his blue eyes flashing. “ You’ll take it 
back, Arnold, before I ever speak to you again! ” 
He brushed past Frank and went on hurriedly up 
the path, deaf to the latter’s appeal to “ wait a 
minute I ” 

It was all through with and finished now, he 
reflected miserably. He had stood from Arnold 
just all any fellow could stand! A coward, was 

303 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


he? Well, he would show them! He didn’t 
know just how he was to show them, but that 
would come later. Until Arnold begged his par- 
don he would never speak to him or have a thing 
to do with him I It wasn’t until he was safe be- 
hind the closed door of Number 22, with his eyes 
a little bit wet for some reason, that he recalled 
Doctor Collins’ advice. Then he told himself 
ruefully: “ It’s just like I said. The trouble 
with controlling your temper is that you don’t re- 
member about it until it’s too late 1 ” 

March approached with a week of severely 
cold weather during which the river froze nearly 
eight inches thick and at night cracked like the 
report of a pistol. No more snow came and the 
shriU north-west winds howling against Toby’s 
windows forced him to wrap his legs in his over- 
coat when he sat down to study. Hockey went 
on unremittingly, but there were some days when 
it was cruelly cold on the rink and playing goal 
was none too pleasant. Toby was thankful for 
those warm gloves then. The school hockey 
championship was decided on the river, the Sec- 
ond Class Team winning the final contest handily 
from the First. Toby retained his place as first- 

304 


THE RESCUE 


choice goal-tend and Frank Lamson made a fine 
pretense of indifference and treated Toby as good- 
naturedly as ever. But it wasn’t difficult to see 
that Frank still had hopes of winning his position 
back, for he played hard and earnestly. The 
morning practice with Grover Beech came to an 
end two days before the Greenburg High School 
game on the advice of Coach Loring. 

“ You’re getting enough work in the afternoons 
now, Tucker,” he said, “ and there’s such a thing 
as overdoing it.” 

Toby wasn’t very sorry, for the contests of skill 
between him and Beech had become one-sided, 
since Toby learned more every day and Beech 
seemed incapable of further progress in the gentle 
art of shooting goals. With the yielding of full 
authority to Mr. Loring by Captain Crowell 
things soon began to look brighter on the rink. 
The fellows, bothered not a little before by having 
two masters, settled down to following the 
coach’s directions with far more enthusiasm. 
There were no other changes made in the line-up, 
for Casement had failed to show any better work 
than Arnold Deering at right wing. Dan Henry 
had long since given up hope of returning to the 

305 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


game that winter and was helping coach the second 
team goal-tends and occasionally refereed the 
practice games. Toby threw himself heart and 
soul into learning and retaining his captured po- 
sition. It was well for him that he had some- 
thing so absorbing, for he was not very happy 
just now, and hockey and lessons — for whatever 
happened he had to maintain a good class stand- 
ing — kept his thoughts off his quarrel with Arn- 
old. 

The Greenburg High School game was played 
in Greenburg and the return match was an easy 
matter for Yardley. Toby played most of the 
game, and then gave way to Frank Lamson. 
Coach Loring began to put in his substitutes early 
in the second period and when the contest ended, 
with the score ii to 3 in Yardley’s favor, not a 
first-string man was on the ice. All things con- 
sidered, the substitutes did very well, scoring four 
goals against Greenburg’s really excellent defense. 
That contest was the last before the final game 
with Broadwood and only four work-outs re- 
mained. The reports from the rival school 
proved pretty conclusively that Broadwood had 
one of the best sevens in the history of the dual 
306 


THE RESCUE 


league, and it was thoroughly realized at Yardley 
that if the Pennimore Cup was to return to the 
trophy room there, the Blue would have to put 
up a better game than she had done so far all 
season, but Captain Crowell was hopeful and 
Coach Loring fairly radiated optimism, and the 
players took their cue from their leaders. A 
month before no one would have seriously pre- 
dicted a Yardley victory, but now the tendency 
was rather toward over-confidence. And over- 
confidence, as we know, is a dangerous thing. 

Toby managed to contract a slight cold the Sat- 
urday of the Greenburg game, probably because 
he had too little to do to allow of his keeping 
warm, and it got worse on Sunday night and kept 
him out of practice Monday. Nor was it very 
much better the next day, although he reported for 
work and played through the first period and about 
ten minutes of the second. The following morn- 
ing he felt, to use his own expression, just like a 
stuffed owl, and he had to drag himself to recita- 
tions and between them sat wrapped in sweater 
and coat in his room and tried to see how many 
of his small store of handkerchiefs he could use 
up! After dinner, a tasteless meal to Toby, he 

307 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


sought the school doctor and was appropriately 
dosed and instructed to keep away from the rink 
that afternoon. “ Wrap yourself up warmly,’^ 
said the doctor, “ and stay out of doors, but don’t 
get overheated. Fresh air is the best cure for a 
cold, my boy.” 

So Toby got himself excused from practice and, 
after his last recitation, donned his sweater and 
tied a muffler around his throat and went out for a 
walk. It wasn’t a very invigorating sort of day, 
for on Sunday the weather had changed and for 
two days a mild south-westerly breeze had been 
blowing in from the Sound, causing dire apprehen- 
sion on the part of the hockey men. Already the 
river below Loon Island showed stretches of open 
water and ice-cakes were floating down past the 
bridges and into the unfrozen Sound. It was a 
moist, cloudy afternoon and Toby’s feet lagged 
as he struck down-hill toward the little village. 
Wissining had one store, a general emporium that 
sold everything a fellow didn’t want and nothing 
he did. Still, one could buy pencils there, and 
Toby needed one, and it didn’t make much differ- 
ence in which direction he walked. After the 
purchase he went on along the road that parallels 
308 


THE RESCUE 


the track and eventually leads to the footbridge to 
Greenburg. When he got in sight of the river 
he was surprised to see to what extent the ice had 
broken up since yesterday, or even since morning. 
Unless the weather grew cold again within the 
next two days that Broadwood game would never 
be played next Saturday. 

Toby stood on the bridge a few moments watch- 
ing the ice-cakes swirl under, turning and dipping, 
or pile up against the piers, and then, mindful of 
the doctor’s instruction, he took the road along 
the river and wandered down toward the Point. 
The river widens as it nears the Sound, and to- 
day, with the tide running out hard and strong and 
the ice-cakes moving seaward it was worth watch- 
ing. He had the road pretty much to himself, 
for Wissining is not a populous village and the day 
was not such as to attract many folks out of doors, 
and he plodded on through melting snow and rot- 
ting ice and plain brown mud until the big 
wrought-iron gates of the Pennimore estate 
blocked his further progress. From that point 
he could look westward along the Sound for sev- 
eral miles, and he paused a minute and watched 
a schooner dipping her way along under the brisk 

309 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


wind, and a coal steamer churning slowly eastward. 
Then he turned back and retraced his steps, since 
there was no alternate road, and had reached a 
point near the little ferry house, long since aban- 
doned to time and weather, when a faint cry fell 
on his ears. 

Toby looked about him and saw no one save a 
man driving a wagon across the bridge nearly a 
quarter of a mile upstream. Across the river 
were a few shanties and although there was no one 
in sight it was probable that the shout had come 
from there. Toby went on his way, not quite sat- 
isfied, however, for the cry, as faint as it had been, 
had sounded like an appeal for help. And then, 
before he had taken a dozen steps, it came again, 
louder this time and seemingly closer at hand. 
Toby’s gaze swept the opposite shore, traveled 
up the river — 

What was that between him and the bridge? 
A boat? No, it didn’t look like a boat. It was a 
darkish spot apparently in the water, but surely 
no one would be silly enough to attempt to swim 
there I And then he realized. In the middle of 
the river, turning and dipping, floated an ice-cake 
and on it, stretched face-downward, was the form 
310 


THE RESCUE 


of a boy ! Hardly creditin’g his sight, Toby stood 
and stared. But there was no deception. The 
ice-cake and its imperiled burden was floating 
nearer and nearer and the cries, shrill and ter- 
ror-stricken, came plainly now across the water. 
Now and then the frail expanse of ice tipped dan- 
gerously and Toby could see the boy strive fran- 
tically to adjust his body to the slant, to keep the 
ice-cake from turning over. One hand clutched 
desperately at an edge and the other was stretched 
on the slippery surface. Straight for the open 
water of the Sound it floated, and, as Toby well 
knew, the boy could never stay on it a moment 
after it reached the rough water. Toby’s first act 
was entirely involuntary. He rushed to the edge 
of the embankment, slipping and tripping on the 
ice, put his hands to his mouth and sent his voice 
across the space. 

All right!” he shouted. ** Hold on! Vm 
coming! ” 

But that was easier promised than performed, 
as he realized the next moment with a sinking 
heart. At least sixty yards would separate him 
from the ice-cake when it floated opposite. If 
he risked it and succeeded, he might crawl out on 

311 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


the stationary ice along the shore and cut that 
distance down by half, but even then he would 
be no better off. He had no rope to throw and 
could not have thrown it so far in any event. To 
swim would be foolhardy, for even if he managed 
to make his way through the loose ice as far as 
the boy he would never be able to bring him 
ashore. A boat, then, was the only hope, and not 
a boat was in sight on his side of the river. 
Nearer and nearer came the ice-cake with its liv- 
ing cargo, colliding with other cakes, swaying and 
twisting and dipping, every moment threatening to 
upheave one side or another and drop its burden 
into the icy waters. Toby thought desperately, 
looked helplessly about him. And then his gaze 
fell on the little dismantled ferry house and he 
raced down the bank toward it, hoping against 
hope. 

The door on the water side was half off, sprawl- 
ing on its rusted hinges, and at first glance the dim 
interior seemed empty. But at first glance only, 
for, as Toby’s eyes became accustomed to the 
gloom, they descried a boat, tilted on its side, 
and what looked like the handle of an oar pro- 
truding over the edge. How he pulled that skiff 
312 


THE RESCUE 


from the old ferry house to the landing and then 
over yards of creaking, swaying ice he never knew. 
But somehow he did it, and somehow, just as he 
and the boat sank through yielding ice, he man- 
aged to scramble into it, to seize one of the oars 
and push off. Rowing was out of the question as 
yet, for his strength was spent and the ice, bob- 
bing about in huge fragments, prevented his dip- 
ping the blades in water. But, sobbing for very 
weariness, he knelt and pushed, prodding at an 
edge or a crevice, and so at last made his way into 
clearer water and then looked anxiously upstream. 

For an instant his heart sank leadenly, for the 
boy was nowhere in sight. He was too late! 
But the next moment he saw him, already abreast 
and moving fast toward the mouth of the river. 
Toby, with a gasp of relief, fitted the oars to the 
ancient thole-pins and rowed his hardest. 

He was a good hand in a boat, was Toby, oth- 
erwise he would never have won that race through 
the ice-floes. The boat leaked like a sieve and he 
w^ondered long before he reached his goal whether 
it would keep afloat long enough to reach shore 
again. Ice-cakes swept down against the skiff 
and fairly staggered it. When he saw them in 

313 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


time Toby tried to fend them off with an oar, but 
rowing was the main necessity, for the boy on the 
ice-cake was going fast, and he must take his 
chances with the floes. For many minutes or so 
it seemed to Toby, the skiff failed to gain, but at 
last it caught the current in the middle of the 
stream and then, with Toby pulling as he had 
never pulled before, it began to gain. The water 
was already getting rougher and every moment 
the boy’s predicament became more perilous. 
Only once did Toby waste precious breath on en- 
couragement. Then he shouted over his shoul- 
der: 

Coining! Hold on a little longer! 

Followed some desperate minutes and then 
victory! Toby avoided a floe many yards in di- 
ameter, letting it pass while he fended the skiff 
away from it, and then dug the blades of his oars. 
An instant later the side of the skiff grated against 
the ice-cake and Toby pushed an oar across its sur- 
face. “ Catch hold,” he panted, “ and pull your- 
self toward me 1 ” 

The boy obeyed, but Toby realized the courage 
required to release the hold of those half-frozen 
fingers on the cake of ice. The boy grasped 

314 



“coming! hold on a little longer!” 







THE RESCUE 


the oar and, still face-downwards, moved cau- 
tiously, fearfully toward the skiff. As his weight 
moved toward the edge, the ice-cake, scarcely 
three yards across at the widest place, began to 
dip. 

Faster!** cried Toby. “Grab the side of 
the boat! ” 

Over turned the ice-cake and the boy’s body 
settled with it into the water, but one straining 
hand was on the gunwale and Toby had secured 
a tight hold on his jacket. The skiff careened as 
the ice-cake slowly righted again, Toby pulled 
with every ounce of strength remaining in his 
body and, somehow, the boy came sprawling, inch 
by inch, into the boat to lie finally face-up in six 
inches of water on the bottom while Toby, 
scarcely knowing what he did, fixed his oars again 
and pulled mechanically for the shore. And as 
he labored with lungs bursting, muscles aching and 
eyes half-closed the perfectly absurd thought came 
to him that Tommy Lingard’s clothes would cer- 
tainly need pressing to-morrow I 


CHAPTER XXII 


THINGS COME OUT ALL RIGHT 

I T was Saturday afternoon. Toby lay in bed 
in Number 22, very glad to be home again 
after two days of the unfamiliar and monot- 
onous white walls of the infirmary. They had 
brought him home — for the little, poorly fur- 
nished room was home, after all — that forenoon, 
and he had partaken of a perfectly sumptuous din- 
ner, the first in several days, and had gone peace- 
fully to sleep after it. But he was wide awake 
now and feeling very comfortable and contented 
and beautifully rested. He had been, they had 
told him, a pretty sick boy for a day or so after 
Mr. Pennimore’s gardener and another man had 
rescued him and Tommy Lingard from a sinking 
boat at the mouth of the river. (For it seemed, 
although Toby didn’t pretend to understand it, 
that he had lost all sense of direction and had 
rowed toward the Sound. Either that or his tired 
arms had not been able to prevail over the cur- 
316 


THINGS COME OUT ALL RIGHT 

rent.) But he was quite all right now. Of 
course, his head hurt a bit and his cold wasn’t quite 
all gone, and he was still a little stiff in places, but 
aside from those failings he felt fine I 

The window was open a trifle and through it 
came sounds that brought a puzzled frown to 
Toby’s forehead. They seemed to suggest some- 
thing not so pleasant as being at home again in his 
own bed. Then he remembered and the frown 
disappeared. They were playing Broadwood 
down there on the rink and if all this had not hap- 
pened he would have been there too, guarding his 
goal in the big game of the year. But, somehow, 
he didn’t care so awfully much. Frank would 
play in his place, and Frank deserved it. He 
owed Frank at least that much reparation for the 
unjust suspicions he had of him. On the whole, 
he was glad that Frank had got the position back 
again, and he only hoped that he would play 
such a dandy game there that the hated Broad- 
wood would go home scoreless ! 

Thinking of Frank sent his thoughts back to the 
afternoon before when a very pale and timid 
Tommy Lingard had been shown in to him in the 
infirmary and had haltingly muttered thanks for 

317 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


his rescue and then, after much hesitation and 
many false starts, had cleared up the mystery of 
the stolen Hockey Fund. He had owed Frank 
Lamson some money and Frank had asked him 
for it that very night he had left his clothes to be- 
cleaned, threatening all sorts of awful punish- 
ments if he didn’t pay it up on the morrow. And 
he had seen Toby go to the drawer of his bureau 
to make change that night and so knew of the 
money kept there. The next morning he had 
gone to Number 22 when he knew that Toby 
would be in a class-room and taken box and con- 
tents and so paid his debt to Frank Lamson. He 
hadn’t looked carefully at the money and had 
failed to notice the marked quarter or the patched 
dollar bill, and when Toby had asked about the 
latter he had told the first lie occurring to him. 
And he was awfully sorry about it and would pay 
it all back, every cent, and he only wished he 
could do it that minute because when a fellow 
saves your life, like Toby had saved his — 

The sound of triumphant cheering came up 
from the distant rink, borne on the nipping little 
westerly breeze. Toby thrilled and wondered 
how the game was going. He would like to have 

31B 


THINGS COME OUT ALL RIGHT 


played, after all! But he owed that much to 
Frank, and so it had all happened for the best. 
And by now ■ — long before this, probably — 
Frank had got the note he had written that morn- 
ing and dispatched by the goody, in which he had 
told of his suspicions and of the evidence leading 
to them and had humbly asked Frank’s pardon. 
And after awhile, perhaps, Frank would come up 
to see him and tell him it was all right, and — 
and maybe he would tell Arnold and Arnold 
would come, too. Toby had wanted very much to 
write Arnold as well; he tried several times; but 
he wasn’t very much of a letter-writer yet and the 
things he wanted to say had got all mixed up and 
confused and he had had to give it up. But Ar- 
nold would come sooner or later. He was sure of 
that, for Arnold knew now that he wasn’t a cow- 
ard and Frank would tell him that he had written 
and apologized — 

Another wild paean of joy from the rink inter- 
rupted his thoughts. He glanced at the clock on 
the bureau and to his surprise found that it was 
nearly four! Why, then, the game must soon 
be over! If only Yardley might win it he 
wouldn’t care at all that he hadn’t been able to 


319 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


play. Or, at least, not much. He had rather 
wanted to get his letters and the crossed hockey 
sticks between, but there was another year com- 
ing, and so that, too, was quite all right. 

Why, the cheering was getting nearer! The 
game must be over then! And — and Yardley 
surely had won, else why should they cheer so? 
The fellows were marching back from the rink. 
He could hear quite plainly now, catch each word 
of the old familiar cheer: ** Rah, rah, rah! 
Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Yardley! 
Yardley! Yardley! They were at the gymna- 
sium probably. Yes, they were cheering the 
players 1 He heard the long-drawn Crumhie- 
e^e ! '' 

“ We must have won! ” he cried, sitting up sud- 
denly in bed. “ We must have ! ” 

Footsteps pounded the stairs and hurried along 
the corridor and Toby’s heart raced. Eager 
voices sounded in the corridor, came nearer! 
There was a knock on the door and Toby, trying 
to say “ Come in ! ” couldn’t. But it didn’t mat- 
ter for the door swung open at once and in came 
Arnold and Frank, still in hockey togs, red- 
cheeked, bright-eyed, bringing a breath of the 
320 


THINGS COME OUT ALL RIGHT 


frosty outdoors with them. It was Arnold who 
spoke first, Arnold falling to his knees beside the 
bed and throwing one arm across Toby’s body. 

“ We won, chum! ” he cried. Four to two! 
It was great! And old Frank played a wonder- 
ful game • — ” 

“ Not as good as Toby would have,” interpo- 
lated Frank with conviction from the foot of the 
bed. 

“ And Loring told me to tell you,” continued 
Arnold breathlessly, unheeding of interruption, 
“ that you’re to get your hockey letters, T. 
Tucker! ” Arnold paused then and his face so- 
bered. Finally, in lower tones he said: 
“ Frank’s told me, Toby, and I don’t blame you 
for thinking what you did. He doesn’t either. 
And I’m sorry, awfully sorry, that I — I acted the 
way I did, and called you — what I did. You 
believe me, don’t you? ” 

Toby only nodded. He wanted to speak but 
— well, a nod was easier ! Arnold’s hand found 
his on the coverlid and grasped it tightly. 

“ I wanted to make up long ago, Toby,” he 
whispered, “ but^ — but I was just a plain, rotten 
brute.” 


321 


GUARDING HIS GOAL 


Toby shook his head vehemently, but Arnold 
wouldn’t have it. 

“ Yes, I was, chum I A regular brute. Frank 
told me so a dozen times. But — but it’s all 
right now, isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Toby happily. “ It’s all 
right! ” 

From the direction of the gymnasium came an- 
other long cheer: Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, 

rah! Rah, rah, rah! Tucker!** 

Toby, hearing, smiled contentedly. “ I guess,” 
he murmured, “ most everything comes out all 
right if you’ll just let it I ” 

CD 


THE END 










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